Time for Grace (4 page)

“And I can walk to the train from here?”

“It’s about a ten-minute walk. And I hope you don’t mind but I called Jim Dillon, the pastor of The Tabernacle. He’s the one who hires teachers for the school our church sponsors. He wants to meet you as soon as possible. It seems as though the gal going on maternity leave is anxious to stay home with her feet up. She’s having a rough time of it, poor thing.”

Sarah’s nerves had just settled and now the butterflies took flight again. She hadn’t been sure about teaching in a Christian school again. She felt like a bit of a fraud considering her own faith issues. But it was only a temporary position and Scott’s GI insurance hadn’t amounted to all that much. She needed to get back to work and soon.

“If you give me his number, I’ll call and try to arrange an interview.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. You hadn’t planned to see your daughter again tonight, had you?”

Sarah frowned. Where was this going? “No. I think I’ll just go back to my room so I can get a fresh start on the day tomorrow.”

Miriam leaned against the window frame and crossed her arms. “Then why not stay with me tonight. I’ll take you to church with us in the morning. You can talk to Jim after the service.”

“But I can’t just—” Sarah began.

Miriam shook her head. “Believe me, I can use a little help corralling my kids and my sister’s or I’ll never get to services on time. Gary wasn’t supposed to still be out of town tonight.”

“But church?
And
an interview?” Sarah looked down at the T-shirt and jeans she wore beneath her car coat. “II can’t go like this.”

Kip, who’d been as quiet as a clam said, “You won’t stick out dressed like that at our church. Did you bring anything with you from West Virginia you’d feel was more appropriate?”

Sarah blushed. “No. I didn’t think to pack anything for church. Everything happened so fast and I usually spend all my time at the hospital. I guess I’ll need to buy some things until I can get back to Piedmont Point to get my clothes.”

“We’ll handle that when the time comes,” Miriam chimed in. “In the meantime, I have a few things you’d probably be able to wear if Pastor Jim hires you. And as for the jeans, Jim Dillon lives in them and preaches in them. There was probably a time he slept in them. I’ll call and warn him that the interview will be informal. He’ll thank you. I’ve never seen a man more resistant to wearing suits and ties.” She grinned. “Except my baby brother. He once really did try to sleep in that jacket of our grandfather’s.”

Kip sighed. “I should have warned you. My big sister has tried to run everyone’s life since Mom moved to Florida with her new husband.”

Miriam shot Kip an annoyed look but must have seen the truth in what he said because she blushed and said, “I’m sorry, Sarah. You do what you think is best and I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

Sarah had to admit Miriam was right. If she stayed, she wouldn’t have to find her own way to the school for her interview. Plus Kip wouldn’t have to drive her all the way back to the city. That meant she wouldn’t need to sit next to him trying to keep from letting him know the unsettling effect he seemed to have on her. It was something she’d never experienced to this magnitude before and she didn’t really know how to handle it.

She was still a bit hesitant about the whole church thing, though. She hadn’t been to church since she’d gotten so angry at her pastor after Grace’s premature birth. But Miriam’s solution was the most practical. “As long as you’re sure the pastor won’t be insulted by what I’m wearing,” Sarah said finally.

Kip chuckled. “Trust me on this. Our church
and
Jim really are informal but Miriam can lend you something if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

“And he won’t mind scheduling a last-minute interview?”

“Honey, he’s dying to meet you,” Miriam assured her.

Kip left after Miriam confirmed the interview, then she gave Sarah a quick tour of her big colonial farmhouse. After that they talked over the lease and utilities costs on the apartment. Sarah found herself excited about the move. She really loved the little place and was sure it would be perfect for her. She’d be able to make a cozy little home for herself and eventually even Grace. All she had to do was find a way to transport her things to Pennsylvania and make a trip or two to some thrift shops to replace things too bulky to bring with her.

As she settled in to sleep on the sofa bed in a small den on the first floor of Miriam’s home, Sarah thought again of the coming interview. She hoped she would be as glad to meet Pastor Jim Dillon as both Miriam and Kip were that she’d agreed to their spontaneous plan.

But it was Kip Webster that dominated her thoughts as she waited for sleep. Normally she was so tired by the end of a day that sleepiness descended over her quickly. This night, despite her busy day, thoughts of a handsome man with an infectious grin, kind eyes and a good heart had questions swirling through her mind.

Questions like how long her loyalty to Scott’s memory bound her to the lonely life his death had condemned her to? Questions like why it had been Kip who’d volunteered to ferry her and Grace to Pennsylvania for Angel Flight East? And why meeting him had caused so many things to fall into place for her?

Sleep finally claimed Sarah but not until she admitted to herself that only the future would answer her questions.

S
arah pulled the passenger side door of Miriam Castor’s Ford Expedition closed behind her and took a tired breath. When Miriam had told her she could use help getting her and her sister’s broods ready for church, she hadn’t been kidding. While trying to help out, Sarah had begun to feel more like a cowboy corralling errant calves than a schoolteacher.

Miriam had five children and her sister had five, as well. Hectic was a kind description for making sure ten energetic children and adolescents were ready for church on time.

“Does everyone in your family have a lot of children?” she asked once she and Miriam both got their breath.

Miriam smiled. “Everyone but Kip. He isn’t married and says he never will be.”

“Isn’t that what all men say? Then they meet the right person and change their minds,” Sarah said and yawned.

No answer came from Miriam’s side of the big SUV’s front seat, drawing Sarah’s undivided attention. Their gazes collided. Kip’s sister looked a bit irritated, leaving Sarah thinking she’d said something wrong. As Miriam turned around to check that all the seat belts were buckled, Sarah saw that a hint of a smile tipped her lips up at the corners so Sarah relaxed.

Once they were on the road, Miriam finally said, “Kip says wanting to stay single is because of the way we grew up.”

Sarah remembered Kip and his reaction to Grace. It made no sense. The man clearly loved children. “If it’s not too personal a question, what about the way you grew up would make him feel that way?”

“Both our father and uncle died rather young. My mom was barely making it financially when our uncle died. My aunt just wasn’t equipped to support six children alone and there was no way they were going to survive. We all moved in together. It was a good solution for our mother and aunt but made for a wild scene sometimes. I’m afraid living in a household with four older sisters and six girl cousins who were both older and younger than him, a mother, an aunt, and a grandmother made Kip sick of putting up with women, kids and chaos.”

To Sarah that kind of chaos sounded like heaven but she could imagine Kip had felt constantly outnumbered. “I hardly had a family at all,” she told Miriam. “I spent a lot of time in boarding schools and with teachers and friends at the holidays.”

“Where were your parents?”

Sarah sought a light tone. “My parents are missionaries. They didn’t take me on the more dangerous assignments. As time went on, more and more mission trips were to troubled parts of the world. So I went along less and less.” Wanting to get off the subject of her dismal childhood, Sarah said, “I’m surprised to hear Kip is against a marriage and children. He was so natural with Grace and believe me no one other than medical people have ever been anything but shocked or horrified when they first see her.”

“Oh, he’s great with kids. But he says it’s fun to be their adoring uncle, or to coach or to mentor. He just wants the freedom to hand them back when he’s had it. I’m hoping he’ll change his mind about marriage and a family someday. I hate that he’s so alone in the world.”

Miriam steered the big SUV onto a narrow road with practiced ease and just as smoothly changed the subject. “So you never told me how you liked teaching at a Christian school in West Virginia instead of a one-room school on the African plains.”

At least this was a safer subject than her life with and without her mother and father. “It’s different there. Yet, in many ways, it’s the same. All children have pressures on them to conform to their secular culture’s vision of the world. Here it’s music, dress and sex. Over there it’s some of that and other cultural pressures, too.”

“What about hunger and poverty?”

“Poverty is what they consider normal. Every student felt honored just to be able to come and learn and that’s the biggest difference. Don’t get me wrong. There were a lot of eager students in West Virginia but there were a tragic few who weren’t motivated to do more than take up space. I wasn’t prepared for that.”

Miriam shook her head sadly. “I see it, too, even in the early grades.”

“I almost think it’s harder than it is to have them come to school hungry. I gave them my lunch in Doctal. The problem here isn’t so easily fixed.”

“But it can be fixed. It just takes time and a lot of patience,” Miriam put in. “Pastor Jim takes troubled kids on as a personal mission because his older sister died of a drug overdose. He’s gotten Kip involved, too. So far they’ve had great results.”

“What if the troubled child is a girl?” she asked. She’d love to help troubled girls but in a Christian school she could only do that if she could get her own faith issues worked out. How in good conscience could she tell a troubled child to pray for guidance or better circumstances when she didn’t believe it herself.

“Holly Dillon, Pastor Jim’s wife works with them, along with a few of the women in the church.”

“Your pastor sounds so different from any minister I’ve ever met,” Sarah said, feeling her nerves grow taut again. One good thing with the hectic morning had been that there hadn’t been time to get anxious about interviewing with this paragon Kip and Miriam never stopped praising.

“Pastor Jim isn’t exactly one of a kind,” Miriam admitted, then she smiled fondly. “but he’s one of a very special breed. His life is touched by the Lord’s grace, that’s for sure. I’m frequently surprised to see him apply a millenniums-old biblical principle to life today and have it fit as if it were written for today. He’s opened more than one heart to the truth.”

The man sounded bigger than life. And as if he’d be able to see right through her to all her flaws. Sarah felt her nails digging into her palms. What if he saw her anger at God and called her on it? What would she say? How could she explain jealousy and anger at her Lord when she couldn’t even understand it herself?

Kip walked into the church’s sanctuary and found himself swamped by several members of his football team. They’d played their last game on Thanksgiving morning and had trounced the other team for the division championship. He’d thought their spirits would still be high but it only took a second to realize what he saw was anxiety, not excitement.

Still, they were all talking at once and creating a commotion. He cringed as calls of “Coach. Coach,” seemed to reverberate off the rafters of the converted barn that was now the sanctuary of The Tabernacle. The structure had once housed the church offices, Sunday school rooms and the nurseries too. But the church had grown so large that they’d had to add on to the octagonal barn. Like the spokes of a wagon wheel, corridors led to rooms where those extra functions now took place and the sanctuary had been expanded to encompass the whole original building.

“Hey, guys, quiet it down a little,” Kip told the teens. Once that was accomplished he continued, “Now what are you all trying to tell me?”

He still didn’t catch which one of them was saying what but he put it all together. Aidan Graham, the school’s volunteer basketball coach, had been in a car accident the night before.

“He like totaled his car,” his second-string quarterback lamented.

“Harry, he nearly totaled himself,” Pastor Jim Dillon’s son Ian said. At sixteen the kid still carried a hint of an accent. He’d been born and had lived several years in New Zealand where his parents met while Jim was in the navy. They’d divorced when Ian was an infant and before Jim found the Lord. Love for their child and each other had brought them together again. Now, some years later, they had several more children and were the happiest couple Kip had ever seen.

“Is Aidan going to be all right?” Kip asked Ian.

The sixteen-year-old grimaced. “He broke a lot of bones. One leg in several places. He’ll be out of work for a while. My dad was at the hospital till late last night. He says Coach Graham will need quite a bit of rehab but he’s going to be okay.”

“The thing is,” Harry put in, “now we’ve lost our B-ball coach and practice starts next week. If we don’t have practice, we’ll never be ready to start the season.”

Now Kip understood the mobbing. They wanted him to coach in Aidan Graham’s place. He probably would but they needed to understand that it was Aidan and not a game that really mattered. “There are more important things than playing ball, guys. Maybe the team just shouldn’t have a season.”

One of the four, a tall blonde, nodded, shamefaced. “That’s what Ian said, but if we don’t play all the other teams are going to have holes in their schedule. And they all depend on ticket sales to fund their teams. Plus some of the seniors are hoping for scholarships. If the scouts can’t see us play they can’t be impressed.”

Ian nodded. “Dad said he’d help but he has so much to do already. And coaching is a vast commitment. I don’t know where he’d get the time to be the
head
coach. If he only had to be the assistant, though…”

Kip sighed. “Okay. I’ll do it.” He held up his hand before they could cheer. “But we’re going to need to lend a hand at the Graham house. His house will need winterizing and Aidan’s mother and father are elderly and can’t be raking leaves and shoveling out that driveway once snow starts. That was Aidan’s job and we’ll have to do it.”

The boys all nodded.

“And if his recovery goes into spring, we’ll still need to take care of the physical things he can’t.”

They all nodded and Ian said, “I’ll tell my dad he doesn’t need to find a head coach and that the team plans to handle the outside work at Coach Graham’s house till he’s back on his feet.”

Kip gave Ian a sharp nod. “You do that,” he said and watched the boys head back out of the sanctuary. And then his eyes fell on Sarah Bates laughingly ushering his younger nieces and nephews in the front door and on down the first corridor toward their classrooms. His sister walked in behind her with the fourth-through eighth-graders who’d need to use the next corridor. When Miriam and the older kids passed from his line of sight, Kip’s eyes returned, as if by their own volition, to Sarah distributing the children at the doors of their classrooms.

A longing like none he’d ever felt swept through him. He was always aware of a certain emptiness in his life but for the most part he filled it with his job, friends, Angel Flights and coaching. Often, when he’d get home to his place, he’d feel a void like a heaviness in his heart but it would soon pass when he sank into his favorite chair to read the Word. Never before, in the midst of one of the activities he’d used to fill his life, had he been struck with this hollow pain.

The feeling was as unwelcome and disturbing as Miriam’s comment when she suddenly tapped him on the shoulder. “Mom would say you’re woolgathering. I think you see something you want. Finally. She’s such a sweet person.”

His sister was scarier than his mother with her ability to read expressions. Kip pressed his lips together and took a moment before speaking. “I’m not having you throw Sarah at me. It’s cruel. I may be coaching basketball which means we may be working at the same school if she gets the job. She doesn’t need you embarrassing her and I don’t need it either. She has more heartache than she can handle already. Not only is her baby’s future up in the air but she’s a recent widow.”

“She’s a widow who was so lonely that she only knew the guy she married for three months. For all intents and purposes their marriage only lasted a week. You get over that kind of loss a lot easier than you do a long and happy marriage. Except for her baby, that girl is all alone in the world and has been for what sounds like most of her life. And I don’t think she likes it.”

“Then I’m sure the Lord has a great guy out there for her but
he
isn’t going to be
me
.”

He saw Sarah walking up to them and realized from the look on her face that his expression reflected his annoyance. He quickly plastered on a smile and turned a bit more toward her. “Hi, Sarah. All ready for your interview?”

“I hope so,” Sarah said but looked unsure. He hoped his mood hadn’t influenced hers. “I still feel underdressed,” she added and looked down at the peasant skirt and T-shirt she must have borrowed from Miriam.

Just then the three guitarists on stage struck the first chords of an upbeat hymn and the drummer and keyboard player joined in. It was the way the music ministry called the Tabernacle’s members to worship. Jim Dillon stepped inside a door on the far side of the sanctuary then. He was dressed as always in jeans and a casual shirt. He waved to Kip, his worn bible in his hand. His smile was as always, kind and welcoming.

Kip heard his sister point Jim out to Sarah. She said she was relieved to see that he didn’t float six inches off the ground. Maybe in trying to relax her they’d puffed up Jim’s worth a bit too much which he knew Jim wouldn’t appreciate.

“Jim would be the first to tell you he’s just a regular sinner like the rest of us,” Kip commented, hoping to alleviate a little of the worry he’d heard in her voice. He didn’t understand her nervousness. Talking to Jim was often comforting, always eye-opening but never stressful. Other than the memory of the father he’d adored, Jim had affected Kip’s life as a Christian man the most profoundly.

Kip was often tempted to seek Jim’s counsel about the decision he’d made to remain single. But he could see no way Jim could extend his life or change the way he felt about the unfairness of leaving a wife behind, perhaps with a son she would outlive as had been his grandmother’s lot in life. To spare loved ones the kind of pain he’d felt, not once but twice, he’d have to continue to deal with his longing for a wife and family of his own. As uncle, coach or mentor—not as husband and father. It would be fairer to everyone that way.