Lightning and Lace (4 page)

“Just come on back,” a soft voice said. “But tread lightly. The baby’s asleep.”

The big man cringed. “Guess I’d better not talk so loud.”

Travis nodded knowingly. “I have lots nieces and nephews. Mamas always have work to do while their babies sleep.”

They entered the parlor, where Ellen Kahler stood wiping the sawdust from her hands. Travis simply grinned. The house sparkled with fine workmanship. Frank showed him the kitchen and two bedrooms, then returned to the parlor.

Frank gave an admiring glance at the baby resting peacefully on a quilt in the corner. He wrapped a muscled arm around a tiny, fair woman.

“This is my wife, Ellen, and our baby, Frank Jr.,” Frank said. “And this is Brother Whitworth, the new preacher.”

Ellen extended her hand shyly, and Travis looked into the face of a strawberry blond with peach-colored freckles dotted across her nose. Frank towered over the tiny woman, wordlessly expressing his devotion to her.

“Welcome to Kahlerville,” she said. “I’m sure the Rainers are glad you’re here. They do need to slow down a bit. I hear you’re from Tennessee.”

“Yes, ma’am. Not far from Erwin.”

“I lived near there until I was fifteen, but you don’t look familiar.”

Travis coughed. “My home and church was pretty far up in the hills.” He pointed to the sleeping baby. “Good-looking boy.”

“Thank you. He’s been teethin’ and a mite fussy with it. I wanted to have more done on the sanding—”

“Ma’am, let me help.” Travis took another appreciative glance around him. “My, this looks fine. You folks are going to a lot of trouble.”

“Brother Whitworth is a carpenter, too,” Frank said.

“Like Jesus,” she said. At that moment the baby began to cry. She scooped him up, and he immediately quieted.

Travis glanced at the two doting over Frank Jr. “There’s nothing I like better, other than preachin’, than to be working with wood. I’d be honored if you’d let me lend a hand. You folks have plenty to do on your own.”

“Well,” Frank began, “we could use another man. Would you be willing to help a few of us next Wednesday? We could probably have it ready by Friday.”

“I’ll be here,” Travis said. “And thanks.”

“I need to write my mother a letter,” Ellen said. “I’ll ask her about your family and church.”

Travis fought to keep his composure. The last thing he needed was folks learning about what had happened in Tennessee—the problems in his church because he’d made a few bad choices.

Travis took a deep breath, willed his knees to stop shaking, and quickly breathed another prayer before stepping up to the pulpit of the Piney Woods Church. A hush swept over the crowd, and Travis knew without a doubt that his words would set the mood for how the congregation accepted their new preacher. Hostile looks from a few folks didn’t give him much confidence.

Oh, Lord, it’s been a long time since we’ve done this together. I’m not so sure I still can preach. Help me.

“Folks, I stand before you this morning feeling very humble that our Lord has seen fit to bring me here to your town, your church. Over the past few days, I’ve met a number of you, and I appreciate the fine welcome and all the help Reverend Rainer has given me. Every preacher dreams of shepherding a church that loves Jesus and is eager to do His work. I know this is a Jesus-loving church.

“Some of you have expressed concern about me taking the reverend’s place. Just let me say that I have no desire to ever replace your fine reverend and—”

“Amen,” a man said.

“I’m glad you agree with me, sir.” Travis’s heart knocked against his chest. “It would be impossible to put all of that wisdom into another man. But with all of us working together, we can continue what God has begun through Reverend Rainer’s fine ministry.

“I imagine y’all have questions. So after the service, Mrs. Rainer and some of the other ladies have arranged a reception at the parsonage. Everyone’s welcome.”

“Right now, let’s worship together in song by turning in our hymnals to page 118, ‘Blessed Assurance.’ You folks certainly have a fine pianist. I could listen to Mrs. Andrews play from sunup to sundown.”

Once the hymn began, Travis felt his nervousness fade slightly as he focused on the words. “This is my story. This is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long.”

What would these good people think if they knew why he’d left his church in the Tennessee hills? Why hadn’t he thought to change his name? Anyone could find out what a miserable job he’d done there—and the resulting disaster.

“Today’s message is taken from Genesis. God has placed a series of sermons on my heart about the spiritual journey of Jacob. Would you follow along in your Bibles in Genesis 25:21 as Isaac prays for God to give him and Rebekah a child.”

Preaching about Jacob the deceiver hit an ironic chord. Maybe the sermon was more for him than it was for the good people sizing him up like a new crop of potatoes. At the end of his message, he invited those who wanted to make Jesus the Lord of their lives to step forward. None came.

No surprise. He wanted to step down from the pulpit, walk out the door, and catch the next train out of town. He forced a smile and glanced out at the people. The reverend and Mrs. Rainer’s family were all there. A couple of the folks who had expressed regret at the reverend’s retirement weren’t seated among the congregation. One elderly couple—Mr. and Mrs. Parker—frowned.

Maybe they knew the truth after all.

At the parsonage, folks helped themselves to a picnic lunch and ate on the grass. Some were polite. The barber offered his services again, and Lester Hillman told him how much money he’d put into the collection plate. His wife blushed. Travis wondered if the woman ever questioned her husband on his mannerisms. Everyone needed accountability.

Travis realized he wouldn’t last long if the good Lord didn’t provide a miracle.

*****

Early Monday morning, as the sun peered over the horizon, Travis rode to the Kahler ranch. He stopped at the front gate of the elegant white home belonging to Mrs. Bonnie Kahler. His gaze trailed up the structure with its stylish angles and chimneys that emerged from the many roofs. The trim work looked like it was done by an expert—the horizontal clapboards and fish scale shingles all painted in a deep green that reminded him of the Tennessee hills.

Travis glanced upward to a tower like structure on the second floor and saw Mrs. Kahler looking down upon him through one of the windows. When she saw him staring back, she quickly pulled the drapes together. He almost waved.

The rich earth beneath his feet looked moist as though someone had just watered the flowering plants, and not a single weed threatened to choke any of them. His gaze moved to the veranda, where a pair of rocking chairs looked as inviting as a fresh-baked apple pie. Huge baskets of ferns dripped water ever so lightly unto the wooden porch. Travis clearly heard the hustle and bustle of ranch hands in the distance. He couldn’t make out their whoops and hollers, but nevertheless they were there. A cow bawled. A dog barked.

Travis planted his foot on the first step leading up to the carved oak door, then hesitated. He’d already offended Mrs. Kahler more than once. Perhaps he should take care of his errand at the back door like other hired folks. After all, he did come with a job to do.

Travis retraced his steps to the front of the house, then followed a path to the back door. A young Mexican woman answered his call and asked what he wanted.

He removed his hat. “I’m Brother Travis Whitworth, here to repair the roof.”

She disappeared, leaving him standing outside. He suspected his workmanship may not be to Mrs. Kahler’s standards. Before he had an opportunity to further question his abilities, however, she stood at the door, dressed in a pale gray and ivory dress. He attempted to ignore what her beauty did to him. A man of God had no right to think of such things. The past had already proved that.

“I didn’t know if you would truly come this morning,” she said with her hands neatly folded in front of her. “But I’m glad you did. Are you settling in?”

Travis couldn’t stop the smile. Mrs. Kahler had a way of looking at him that made him want to look at her all day. “I’m doing fine, thank you. The reverend and his wife are gracious people.” He pulled his gaze away from her lovely face and glanced up at the roof. “I’ve allowed two days to do the repairs. I hope it’s long enough.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” She nodded, and for a moment he doubted his ability to climb onto the roof. “I’ll have my foreman show you about. Have a good day, Brother Whitworth.”

Bonnie called for Zack to escort Travis to one of the stables. The boy appeared annoyed at the request, but he didn’t argue with his mother. Travis started to bid her a good morning, but the door shut soundly before he could speak.

“All right, son, lead the way,” Travis said.

“I’m not your son,” the boy said.

Travis rubbed beneath his nose. Must I always be offending some member of this family? “I’m sorry, Zack.”

“You don’t have to put on airs with me, Preacher, ’cause I don’t care about anything you have to say. You’re hired help, that’s all.”

“You must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed,” Travis said.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Disrespect is my business.” Travis swung his stride ahead of the boy and eyed him squarely. “And you have been taught how to respect others.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”

The rebellion in Zack’s stance told Travis this boy would have to fall hard before he walked straight.

“If you would give me a chance, I’d like to be your friend, but friendship means each of us has to treat the other fairly.”

“I don’t need any preacher friends.” Zack pointed to the stable door. “The foreman’s in there. His name’s Thomas. I’m headin’ to school.”

A short time later, Travis nailed pieces of shingle onto the roof of the house. My, how he loved the touch and smell of wood. Somehow knowing the Lord worked as a carpenter made him feel just a little closer to Him. The sun crept across the sky, warming his back and removing any traces of early morning chill.

Travis whistled his favorite hymn of the day—“Abide with Me”—until the words and melody took form. One hymn after another filled the air around him while he worked and considered the sermon for Wednesday night. He’d nearly drowned with Sunday morning’s pitiful message, but at least he had a second chance. He prayed his words would be filled with the Holy Spirit—and not Travis Whitworth. He pondered over scripture passages, rolling the meanings around in his mind. Nothing came to mind, so he kept singing on through the afternoon.

Zack. The boy’s spiteful words repeated through his mind again. Not only did Zack need to learn respect for himself and others, but more important, he needed to find a relationship with Jesus.

Such a job You have given me, Lord.

“Brother Whitworth,” a young voice called.

Travis peered around one of the chimneys to see Michael Paul staring up and shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun.

“Yes, Michael Paul. Did you have a fine day at school?”

“Yes, sir. Juanita has fried chicken, green beans, corn bread, and cold buttermilk for you.” Michael Paul held up a basket and pitcher for Travis to see.

“Wonderful. I’m powerful hungry.” He made his way across the steep roof onto a ladder bringing him down beside the boy. “Would you like to share this with me?”

“No, sir. I had lunch at school, and we’ll have dinner later on. Thank you just the same.”

“How about visiting with me for a spell?”

“I’d be glad to.” Michael Paul followed him to the back steps.

While Travis ate, he chatted with the boy. His lively conversation revealed that he was quite different than his older brother.

“Brother Whitworth,” Michael Paul began slowly. “I—I sure enjoy your singing.”

“Thanks,” Travis said. “Do you like music?”

“Yes, sir. My aunt Jenny is going to give me piano lessons. When I’m by myself, I sing too.”

Travis ruffled the boy’s hair. “Perhaps we need to sing together. What do you say to working on some hymns with me?”

Michael Paul reddened slightly, but he did manage a smile. “I don’t think I’m nearly as good as you.”

“All the good Lord wants is a joyful noise.”

“I can do that.”

Travis placed the fork and empty plate back into the basket. “Do you have any chores right now?”

The young boy shook his head.

“Well, why don’t you stay and visit a while longer? Talking would sure make the time go by faster, especially with a young lad who likes my singing.”

“I have to ask my mother, but I ’spect it will be just fine.”

“Would you tell her and Miss Juanita that I appreciated this fine food?”

Michael Paul nodded and disappeared with the empty basket and pitcher, and Travis resumed his position on the roof. Now he’s a good boy. Real pleasant and talkative. I hope Mrs. Kahler allows him to spend some time with me. He may be the first one of the Kahler family that I can call a friend.

“Brother Whitworth.” Michael Paul cupped his hand around his mouth. “Mama says I can talk to you until Lydia Anne wakes up from her nap. Then I have to play with her.”

“Good. Why don’t you tell me the things you like to do best?” Travis said.

In between hammerings, Travis listened to Michael Paul talk about the ranch, school, his uncles, grandparents, and favorite songs, but he said nothing about his mother or older brother.

Once Travis completed all the repair work and the foreman gave his approval, Michael Paul helped Travis gather up the tools and pieces of wood. Together they placed them in a storage shed. Lydia Anne hadn’t wakened from her nap, so Travis seized the opportunity not only to thank the boy, but also to praise him for his assistance.

“I couldn’t have gotten this work done so fast if you hadn’t been here,” Travis said. “I thought it would take me two days.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did. You talked to me and kept me interested, and the roof nearly repaired itself. Before I go, I need to tell your mother the roof is fixed and the foreman approved it. Shall we tell her together?”

Michael Paul nodded. The sound of arguing from inside the house caused the boy to stiffen. Travis heard the voices and recognized Zack and Mrs. Kahler.

“I should hurry on back to town. I reckon having Thomas look at the roof is enough. If your mother has any questions or needs more work done, she can contact me at the parsonage,” Travis said. “Would you give her my best?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael Paul’s gaze swung toward the house.

The voices rose louder. This family was not headed for disaster. It was already there.