Queen Bee Goes Home Again (41 page)

While they did, Connor bowed his head, and I could see from his expression, he was struggling to shift his concentration to the upcoming message.

When we'd all finished the praise choruses, the minister of music motioned for us to sit, and Connor came to the pulpit, his eyes filled with compassion for those who faced him. “Praise be to God, for on the first Easter Day, our Lord and Savior defeated death and rose again.”

Applause and amens erupted behind me.

“So what do we do with this gift?” he challenged. “We who have given our hearts to Him so that we may take our cares directly to the holy God who made us? Do we use it as a license to sin? Paul said no, in most emphatic terms. Yet many of us do. We judge others instead of forgiving. We sin and fall short. We fail to forgive ourselves when we see the error of our ways. Yet Christ has covered all our sins with His sacrifice.”

I could see he was homed in on his message, and what a message it was.

“The best part of being a Christian is that we can start every day anew, as if we, too, have risen from the dead, as long as we sincerely repent our shortcomings and want to grow closer to God.”

He smiled. “Sometimes I make it till nine
A.M.
before I need to repent. Sometimes, my feet don't hit the floor before I have to say, ‘Oops, God. Sorry about that,' and start over.

“But the message of this day is that those of us who have given our lives and hearts to Christ
can
start over, as many times as it takes, without having to drag the guilt of our past shortcomings with us.”

He scanned the rows. “As Dickens depicted with Marley's chains in
A Christmas Carol,
our past mistakes can be a heavy burden till we release them to God through Christ. Once we sincerely turn away from our wrongs—no matter how many times it takes—we no longer have to bear the weight of those chains.”

The choir—to a person—listened, intent. As for the rest of the congregation, I was glad I was sitting in the first row, or I'd have been tempted to look around to see how they were taking this gentle admonition. God knew that I needed to hear it as much as anyone.

“So criticism about past failures,” Connor went on, “our own or other people's, has no place in the Christian life. We don't have to beat ourselves up for failures that are over and done with.

“Turn from them? Yes.

“Learn from them? Yes.

“Use them to remind us of a better way? Yes.

“Our own shortcomings
and
those of fellow Christians.” He leaned forward, cupping his ear to the congregation as a signal that he expected a response. “Does it say anywhere in scripture that we're allowed to stuff our resentments into a grudge box and nurse them?”

The congregation responded with a halfhearted, “No.”

“No!” he echoed with zeal. “What are we to do when someone—Christian or not—despitefully uses us?”

He waited, but no one responded at first. So he waited some more.

At last, one of the deacons said, “Pray for them!”

Connor cupped his ear again. “We all pray for those who love us. But how often do we pray for those who do us wrong? Praying for the people we have every right to hate, my brothers and sisters, is the mark of a Christian.”

He looked over the congregation with affection. “Can you let go of your grudges and surrender them to God so you can rise anew every morning without dragging those with you?”

I didn't think I had any grudges. Except for Connor. And Phil. And my human biology teacher.

So I'm human, all right? I'll pray for them, I promise.

Connor went on, telling us how we could turn away from our shortcomings and start clean every day, confirming every step with scripture. By the end of the sermon, a fresh energy and resolve pulsed through the congregation.

As always when I heard a wonderful sermon, I thought,
God, maybe between the two of us, we can do this.

Connor paused, then said, “The ushers are now going to pass among you for the offering. If you are visiting and have been blessed this day, we invite you to come back. Our arms and our hearts are always open to those who seek God.”

While the choir sang and the ushers passed the plates, I pondered Connor's message, and chewed on the idea that I really could leave the past behind and start anew every day. Even without Connor.

When the collection special was done, Connor returned to the pulpit to give the altar call, during which I pondered again.

But I came to abruptly when I heard him say my name.

“A blessed Christian woman whose friendship”—uh-oh, friendship?—“I cherish, and whose faith leaves me in awe,” Connor said, eyes on me. “I hope you will all welcome her back and cherish her as I have.”

A spark of mischief flashed in his eyes. “Lin, would you please come down front to allow us to welcome you back after the service?”

Had he lost his freaking mind?

The shock on my face twisted to an outraged glare witnessed only by the choir, some of whom smiled with glee.

What nerve! I hadn't told him I was going to come back to the Baptists!

Anger set my face on fire.

Pray for those who despitefully use you.

Okay
. God, please open the skies and show that man what he just did to me.

Connor's ambush was every bit as bad as what the old preacher had done: singled me out as a prodigal.

Behind me, the biddies muttered, shushed by Mary Lou, God bless her, but I was strong enough now to know that their problems with me were theirs, not mine.

God, I know I'm supposed to forgive him for this, but this stunt is going to take some serious time. I'm just being honest, here. And while we're being honest, I cannot fathom why You would let this happen.

God held His peace.

A quote from Corrie ten Boom came to mind: “Every experience God gives us, every person He puts into our lives, is the perfect preparation for a future only He can see.”

Okay, then. I forgive him,
I grudgingly prayed as an act of obedience, but my humanity wanted to haul off and kayo Connor Allen in front of the whole congregation.

Not a good idea,
the still, small voice said.
Let it go.

As if!

He'd used me, without even asking.

God's thought-voice in my head spoke with authority.
Let it go. I know the plans I have for you. Let it go.

Still boiling, I had no choice but to obey, so I started reciting Bible verses in my head to clear the anger while the deacons welcomed six people who'd come down the aisle. All of them beaming about their decisions, they turned to face the congregation as we sang the final hymn, “Arise My Soul, Arise.”

Connor said the benediction, then came straight for me, taking my hand and drawing me toward the four men and two women who'd professed their faith in Christ.

Fortunately, I'd managed in the meantime to hide my fury behind my inner duchess.

As the congregation rose and lined up to greet us all, Connor whispered softly, “You are the bravest woman I've ever met to do this. Looking like an angel, I might add.”

I leaned close to his ear. “When I get you alone,” I said through a fixed smile, “I am going to
kill
your ass.”

Connor pulled back in surprise. “Why?”

Idiot man. He
was
just a man, as Granny had warned me.

“If you have to ask, you are too clueless to live,” I murmured through my smile.

Flummoxed, Connor turned his attention to greeting each congregant by name. When the reluctant biddies came through, he gently asked each of them to welcome me. If they remained stiff, he prodded with a grin, “Now, is that the best you can do?”

Of their group, only Mary Lou embraced me with kindness, prompting some of the others to relent. But more remained erect and said that it
was
the best they could do, then stomped off.

Happily, though, the great majority of the congregation was warm in welcoming me.

At least I knew that most of them were glad to see me. But I still wanted to do mayhem about what Connor had done.

After everyone had come through the line, Connor removed his plain black robe and offered his hand. “May I walk back with you? Tommy invited me to your mother's famous Easter brunch.”

Seeing him reach for my hand, a few stragglers zeroed in on me, so I continued the outward charade of calm, ignoring his gesture. “Sure,” I murmured, “as long as you do not touch me in any way.”

Again, he frowned at my hostility. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because you are so unaware of how you just used me.” I sailed out, down the steps, then onto the sidewalk with him scrambling to catch up.

Strolling ahead of Connor, I greeted all I saw, then nodded and smiled at the cars that passed us and waved.

By the time we neared my house, I had calmed down enough to wonder who else Tommy had invited. Probably someone from the program who didn't have any family here. He often invited those.

Whoever it was, I was glad. I could talk to them instead of Connor.

We reached 1431 Green Street, now adorned by red tulips in the wretched bathtub, tons of daffodils in the lawn, and budding azaleas.

Before we stepped onto the graveled drive, Connor stopped and took it all in. “What a beautiful home you grew up in.”

Trying to see it with new eyes, I admired it myself. “Yep.”

When I started forward, Connor remained on the sidewalk, as if he didn't want to go in.

I turned to face him squarely with a hostile, “What?”

He glanced at his feet, then back to me with apology on his face. “You deserve an answer from me, one way or the other, but I still don't have one.”

So what else was new? I started for the house, prompting him to catch up and walk beside me.

“You said God had made us for each other,” I challenged as we headed for the front stairs. “Do you think He's changed His mind?”

Connor exhaled sharply. “I don't know what to think anymore.”

I wasn't impressed. “Whatever.”

As we climbed the stairs, his expression went grim. “I need to know what I've done wrong,” he said as he opened the screen.

“Don't worry,” I said. “You'll find out in heaven, where all things are known.”

That shut him up, good and proper. Stiff, he followed me to the kitchen where God's answer to our prayers awaited.

 

Sixty-five

There, in Daddy's chair, sat my ex-husband, and Miss Mamie was waiting on him like royalty, refilling his iced tea. Carla busied herself with the buffet.

“Now you're sure,” she cooed, “you wouldn't rather start off with a nice hot cup of coffee?”

Phil looked up at Connor with visible resentment as he rose. “Lin.” He nodded to me in deference, then scowled. “What's he doing here?”

“Tommy invited me,” Connor said before I could answer, his voice firm. “What are you doing here?”

Phil plopped back down into Daddy's chair, his hands claiming the polished arms as he leaned back to cross his leg at the knee. “Tommy invited me, too.”

What the heck had my brother been thinking?

Miss Mamie straightened, showing her steel. “This is my home,” she said to them quietly, “and I won't have you two acting like two tomcats in the same sandbox.” She brightened. “Carla and I have prepared a wonderful meal, and I expect all of us to enjoy it together. Civilly.”

Not much civility there, but I knew better than to disobey Miss Mamie at her table, and so, apparently, did Connor and Phil.

Connor eased. “You're right, Miss Mamie. I can't wait to eat when Tommy gets here.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “If we wait for him, everything's liable to get cold. That's why I set up that buffet line on the counter. Y'all get your plates and dig in.”

“Connor,” I interrupted, “would you please bless this for us?”

He nodded, bending his head but keeping his eyes on my ex. “Lord, we thank You for the many blessings You have given us, including Miss Mamie and this wonderful meal she prepared for us, and for the presence of each person at this table, including Phil. May we be humble in Your sight and do Your will this day. Amen.”

Clearly skeptical, Phil took up his plate and headed for the food, then remembered himself and motioned Miss Mamie, Carla, and me ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

Mama actually batted her lashes at him. “Now Phil, dear, have you forgotten? I always go last.”

Connor quirked a smile. “The last shall be first.”

What must he be thinking?

What was
Phil
thinking?

And why was Mama being so nice to him?

Carla quietly started through the line.

Thoroughly confused, I started helping myself to the feast.

When we all had sat back down, Miss Mamie spread her napkin in her lap, then took up her fork and started, so we all chowed down, even though you could have frozen molten steel with the iciness between Connor and my ex.

Miss Mamie leaned over to Phil. “Now eat up, honey. I want to be sure you're well filled before you leave this house. It's the least I can do.”

What was that about?

We'd been eating for about fifteen minutes when we all heard Tommy's truck arrive and stop in the porte cochere.

I knew something was up the minute he and his guest entered the room. “Sorry we're late. John here had some last-minute paperwork to finish.” He introduced John Mason to Mama, then they both sat down, John next to Phil.

“John, you've met my wife Carla,” Tommy went on. “And this is my sister Lin, and Connor Allen, pastor of First Baptist, and sitting next to you is Lin's ex-husband, Phil Scott.”

John leaned across the table to shake hands with all of us, then settled back down.