Makin' Miracles (14 page)

She laughed that warm, musical laugh of hers. “What did he say, Spencer? Read it to me.”

“He said: ‘Dear Miss Zola and Mr. Spencer . . . Thanks for coming to find me when I was lost. I was scared and really glad you came. I'm glad you listened to God to know where I was. That was way cool.... Thanks for fixing my ankle, too. lt wasn't broke, but I have a wrap for the sprain until it gets better. My scratches are all healed up, and I've only had one bad nightmare about a bear getting me. . . . My Granddad and my parents are going to bring me to see you when I get better. I hope that's okay. . . . Your friend forever, Eddie.' ”

“Ahhh.” She sighed audibly. “Isn't that the best? Thanks for calling to read that to me before I fell asleep. If you were here, I'd give you a big kiss, Spencer. That sweet letter made my day.”

“You hold that kiss in thought until tomorrow. I'll collect it when you come help me get ready for our houseful of friends coming for dinner.”

She laughed. “Oh, I'd almost forgotten tomorrow night is when you're having the potluck at your place.”

“Yeah, and you promised to come early to help me before everyone arrives.”

He heard her yawn. “Your place is beautiful, Spencer. I don't know what you're worried about. And it's only friends that are coming—David and Rachel Lee, Aston and Carole, Clark and Stacy, and me.” She giggled. “You know, I still can't figure out how Rachel Lee orchestrated getting Clark and Stacy together. She says they've actually had a date and really got along.”

“I think Clark is a little smitten.”

Spencer walked out onto the porch to check on Zeke, who was nosing around the bushes nearby. “Clark says Stacy likes
Star Trek
and
Star Wars
and that she has a cool collection of X-Men comics. He's enchanted.”

Zola's laugh floated over the line once more. A warm happiness welled up in Spencer whenever he heard her laugh.

“Eddie sent a picture,” Spencer told her, changing the subject.

“He did?” Her voice rose in excitement.

“Don't get too excited. It's one of those school photos, but it's kind of cute. I have a better one that I took.”

“But it's sweet he sent one, isn't it?”

“Yeah.”

Her voice changed then, sounding suddenly tense. “Go get Zeke, Spencer. He's nosing around under a tree where some yellow jackets have started building a nest. I don't want him to get stung. Or you, either.”

Spencer whistled for the shepherd while she was still talking. The dog reluctantly pulled away from the tree trunk, where he'd been nosing in the underbrush, to respond to his master's call. Spencer could see a few yellow jackets flitting around even in the light from the porch.

Zola was still talking. “After you put the dog up, Spencer, you go pump that hole full of wasp poison when it grows good and dark—and after those yellow jackets settle down for the night. Put a plastic tarp over the nest, too, and then cover it with gravel and dirt to smother those wasps. It's not a very big nest, yet, so it won't be too dangerous to deal with it.”

She paused. “You wait until the jackets settle down though, Spencer. Zeke stirred them up digging at their nest.”

Spencer didn't even ask anymore how Zola knew these things without being here or even seeing the insects starting to stir.

“Promise you'll be careful around those yellow jackets, you hear? They're nasty when they get riled up.” He heard her sigh audibly. “You'll need to call me a little later and let me know you're all right after you deal with them. Will you do that? Otherwise, I'll have trouble getting to sleep.”

“I'll call you,” he said, letting Zeke back into the house and heading for the kitchen to look for a can of wasp poison.

“It's under the kitchen sink,” she said, before clicking off the line.

Spencer rolled his eyes before hanging up his own phone. “That woman was watching out for you, Zeke,” he told the dog.

“But, mercy, her knowing things like she does gives me the creeps sometimes.”

He wondered again if Zola was the sort of woman a man could be comfortable living with for a lifetime.

Z
ola finished sprinkling the last of the coconut on her layer cake and checked the sausage-cheese balls in the oven. She was bringing dessert and appetizers to the potluck dinner at Spencer's tonight.

She looked at the list stuck on the refrigerator with a magnet. Spencer had ordered a baked ham and was providing the drinks. Rachel Lee and David were bringing fresh green beans and a potato salad, Stacy chocolate brownies for a second dessert item, and Clark nacho dip and tortilla chips. Aston was cooking a baked beans dish and Carole bringing spiced, cooked apples. They certainly wouldn't have any lack of food.

She heard a tap on the door and wiped her hands on a cloth before heading to answer it.

To her surprise, it was Perry Ammons from the church.

“Hi, Zola,” he said. “I was visiting Maude Gardner down the road and got an impulse to stop by. I hope it's okay.”

“It's fine, Perry.” Zola opened the door to let him in. “Come on back to the kitchen. I'm getting ready to take something out of the oven. I can fix you a glass of iced tea and we can visit while I keep an eye on what I'm cooking.”

“Mmmm, smells good.” He sniffed the air appreciatively as he followed her back to the kitchen.

“It's the sausage-cheese balls that smell so good. I'll give you a few when they come out of the oven.” She gestured to a chair at the kitchen table. Then she took two glasses out of the cabinet to fill with cold tea already prepared in the refrigerator.

Perry took a long sip of his iced tea after Zola sat it down beside him. “I hear I may have you to thank that I was asked to take the interim position as pastor at Highland.”

Zola sat down at the table across from him. “Not really. I only planted a little seed idea with Reverend Madison one day. I'm sure he'd have asked you regardless of that. You're a good minister, Perry.”

“That's
Reverend
Ammons to you now, Zola.” He grinned at her boyishly.

She laughed. Zola had known Perry since they were kids. They'd gone to the same high school together.

Perry toyed with a set of palm tree salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table. “Actually, Vernon Madison told me he probably
wouldn't
have thought to ask me to fill in when he moved if you hadn't suggested it. He said he assumed I'd be too busy with the Creekside Wedding Chapel to carry a pastoral load.”

“And are you?” Zola asked candidly.

He smiled. “I might have been, except a retired minister, Henry Wheaton, moved in near Tracie and I a few months ago. Henry was already filling in for us at Creekside when we needed someone to do ceremonies. He's handling most everything now that I'm at the church full-time. It's working out great.”

Zola remembered something Spencer asked her earlier. “What denomination are you ordained through, Perry? I don't think you ever said.”

“When I got converted back in high school and felt led to go into the ministry, the first person I told was the pastor at Highland Presbyterian then, Reverend Downey.”

Zola couldn't help interrupting. “I loved Reverend Downey. He was such a good, kind man.”

“Well, I'd never gone to any church except for the times I visited with Tanner Cross at Highland, so Reverend Downey was the only minister I knew. He helped me get my scholarship to college, and, of course, all his ties were with the Cumberland Presbyterian College. So I went there.”

She smiled. “So you
do
have the right degree!”

He looked puzzled. “Is there a wrong degree, Zola?”

“No, I mean you have the right degree—and the appropriate training—to take the position full-time at Highland if you're asked.”

“Ahhh. And are you seeing I should do that?” He grinned at Zola again.

“Well, sure.” She got up to check the sausage balls and seeing they were ready pulled them out of the oven and set the second tray inside to bake. “You'd be perfect.”

“Thanks for your confidence, Zola. But I still need to give a lot of prayer and thought to that, to see if I think it's what God wants me to do. That's important to me.”

“I know that.” She handed him several sausage balls on a napkin. “It's because I know how close your heart is to the Lord that I thought you'd be a good choice for Highland, Perry.”

His eyes caught hers in question. “And was it
your
idea or God's idea that I come in as interim, Zola?”

Zola sat down across from him again. “Originally, it was God's idea. It came to me when I was getting the word that Reverend Madison was moving. But when I thought about it later, I realized I agreed with the Lord wholeheartedly that you would be a good choice.” She grinned at Perry and wrinkled her nose in fun.

Perry shook his head. “You carry an interesting gift, Zola. But I worry about how freely you use it sometimes—without thinking of the potential consequences. Like with this Aldo Toomey thing. You and Faith might have been hurt if he'd thrown a real bomb into the store. Also, I'm concerned about this talk that Ben Lee believes you're going to find his daughter's killer. This kind of thing could be dangerous for you, Zola.”

She sat watching him. “Are you saying you think I shouldn't give people the words God asks me to give them?”

Perry reached across the table to put a hand on hers. “I think you know I'm not saying that, Zola. But I wanted you to know if you ever want to run your visions by someone else before you share them I'd be happy to be that person for you.”

Zola squirmed in her chair. “It doesn't work that way, Perry. The knowledge rises up at the moment it's supposed to be given. It isn't the sort of thing one can ponder and think about for a time before sharing. It's a ‘right now' kind of thing.”

“Give me an example,” he said, popping a sausage-cheese ball into his mouth.

She dropped her eyes—thinking—and then looked across at Perry. “Remember when that little boy was missing in the mountains a week or so ago?”

He nodded.

“I was in the mountains with Spencer Jackson on an early morning photo shoot when I saw that child, Perry. I could see where he sat, I could see what he looked like, and I could feel his pain and fear. I saw that he was praying for help and I knew Spencer and I were the ones to be used to rescue him.”

She shook her head. “How could I have sat on that, Perry, and waited for a confirmation from someone before I acted? The child could have died. I was responsible to act then.”

Zola watched him consider this.

“I see. Is it always urgent in that way?”

“Maybe not always as serious as that, but I always feel very strongly I am supposed to share what the Spirit is giving me right then. Not later. It's like an act of obedience to do it when the word is given to me.”

Perry ate another sausage ball and drank some tea, thinking on this. “Your gift is like a mixture of word of wisdom and word of knowledge—both spoken about in Corinthians. It's not common to many.”

He looked thoughtful. “I know from growing up with you that your gift has always set you apart. Made you different. That must be hard sometimes, Zola.”

Zola smiled at Perry. “I came to terms with being different a long time ago, Perry, when only a small girl. I was fortunate my family was accepting of my gift; it would have been hard for me if that hadn't been so.”

Zola reached a hand across to take Perry's. “Thanks for wanting to help me, even for worrying about me. That's kind of you.”

She stood up to take the last of the sausage-cheese balls out of the oven.

Perry cleared his throat. “I'm a longtime friend . . . but I'm also your pastor now, Zola. I want you to know I'm available to you if you ever need me for anything.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning off the oven and sitting down again.

Perry sat quietly for a few minutes, and Zola could tell he had something else on his mind.

“You've been seeing Spencer Jackson,” he said at last, stating it as a fact, not a question. “How is he handling this aspect of you?”

“It's not easy for him,” Zola said candidly.

“I'll bet.” He bit into his last sausage ball.

She laughed then. “I think he does better with the big things, like my seeing the lost child, than he does with the small, everyday things I sometimes see.”

Kind eyes looked at hers. “Do you want me to talk to him about this?”

“No. We're not to that place yet, and, besides, Spencer has a whole set of peculiar issues I have to deal with, too.” She wrinkled her nose. “He has a bunch of trauma from his past he hasn't gotten resolved yet. Our problems are not all one-sided.”

Perry stood up to leave. “Well, I know better than to put my oar in too heavily with a dating couple. I'll just pray the Lord will have His best will in your developing relationship.”

She grinned at him. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

He laughed. “I like you, Zola. You remember that, and if you ever need me as friend—or a pastor—you know where I am.”

“Thanks again, Perry.” Zola reached out a hand to take his in a handshake. “I really appreciate that.”

She stood on the front porch and waved as Perry drove away.

Back in the kitchen, as she cleaned up, Zola found her thoughts drifting to Spencer. She wished sometimes she
could
“see” things to help in her day-to-day relationship with him, but it usually didn't work that way.

“You know, I could use a little help here in unlocking the dark places in Spencer Jackson, Lord,” she prayed out loud. “I'd really like to be able to help him but he sure keeps himself locked up tight.”

Not getting any ready answer, Zola began to put all the sausage balls into a storage container. She had work to do.

The day passed by quickly, and Zola was soon caught up helping Spencer at Raven's Den get ready for his guests to arrive. And then later, after dinner, enjoying herself thoroughly with a group of close friends.

By eight o'clock, they all sat around together in Spencer's big living room, finishing up the last of their dessert and drinking after-dinner coffee. The paddle fan overhead hummed softly to accompany their conversation, and the sound of night frogs drifted in from outside.

Aston propped his long legs on a footstool. “I guess you've all heard the latest update on Aldo Toomey.” A big grin split his face.

Stacy looked up in surprise. “Isn't that the guy who threw the bomb into Zola's store?”

Aston nodded.

“So fill us in,” David encouraged.

“Well, you know he got off with only probation since Zola wouldn't press charges and because it was his first offense.” He took a sip of his coffee.

“Plus he got his old job back,” Zola added. “He came by to tell me that. He'd turned in his notice, but the Beardsleys let him stay on.”

Rachel Lee leaned forward. “Ray told me the company came and repossessed his Corvette, though.”

“Well, I'm not surprised at that,” Zola said.

Aston grinned. “But that's not all.”

Spencer kicked at him with his foot playfully. “Spit it out, Aston. What do you know?”

Aston laughed. “It seems Madame Renee went out of town on a little vacation. While she was gone, someone painted ‘fraud' in bright red paint across her rooftop, very visible to anyone who drove down the highway and passed her business. They also painted ‘crook' on her concrete driveway. The graffiti stayed there for almost two weeks until she came back and threw a fit. She went down to the police station sputtering for them to find the culprit who did it.”

He laughed again. “Of course, Madame Renee and everyone else who heard the story had their own ideas about who did the mischief, but there was no proof. And Aldo Toomey acted as innocent as a rose when questioned.”

Zola giggled, in spite of herself—as did the rest of the group.

Rachel Lee put a hand over her mouth. “We shouldn't laugh about this, but I do admit I'd love to have seen Madame Renee's face when she got home. She has caused Zola so much trouble ever since she moved here.”

“She isn't from here originally?” Spencer asked.

“No, from New Jersey.” Rachel Lee made a face. “And I wish she'd go back there. She's caused a lot of problems for Daddy's parishioners and for other ministers around the area.”

Carole changed the subject. “Aston and I brought a Catch Phrase game to play tonight—girls against the boys. It's fun. You give hints so everyone can guess the words that come up. We played it with my sister Clarissa and her friends, and Aston liked it so much he went out and bought the game.”

“Yeah, and since I paid good money for it, we're definitely going to play it, no arguments!” Aston brought the game out, and soon they were all laughing and passing the electronic device among themselves as rapidly as possible.

By ten o'clock, everyone had said their good-byes, loaded up their dishes and leftovers, and started home. Zola helped Spencer clean up in the kitchen, and then the two went out on the porch to sit and watch the stars in the night sky. A wisp of a moon peeked through the dark trees, looking like a shimmering cradle.

“Everyone had a good time.” She pushed the porch rocker into a soft rhythm with her feet. “And everyone loved your house.”

He stayed quiet for much longer than Zola expected.

“Anything wrong?” she asked.

“No. I was simply thinking how good it can be to spend an evening with friends that you like. To enjoy an easy, comfortable dinner. To laugh and play games without getting overly competitive or without putting someone else down. To feel good when the evening is over.”