To Know Her by Name (55 page)

“That's two,” she said firmly.

“Did I drop another one?” Pup scrutinized the bowl and saw it, fishing it out with a long spoon.

“Now what else have you put in there when I wasn't looking?”

The younger woman sighed. “I don't know. Why did I think that being in love would suddenly make me a good cook?”

Delighted laughter came from the doorway. Camille had come in just in time to hear this.

“You can laugh, Camille,” Pup told her with a frown. “You bake and cook well. Nick's never found an eggshell in his muffin.”

“What I don't understand,” Camille replied, still amused as she joined them and looked into the bowl, “is why this sudden urge?”

“I just think McKay would enjoy it.”

“Tell me something, Callie; has Mr. Harrington already tasted your cooking?”

“Yes. Many times.”

Camille shrugged as if the point was already made.

“What am I missing?”

The mistress of the household shook her head in tender exasperation. “He's already fallen for you, Callie. There must be something else that attracts him.”

Pup just stood there. Camille had never seen her like this. She was always so sure of herself, never at a loss. Now she stood over a large batter bowl and looked uncertainly down at the contents. Earlier she'd seen her at one of the front windows, looking out like a child waiting for her papa to come up the walk.

“I guess I'll just clean this up and forget it.”

“No, you won't,” Miranda cut in. “I'll clean it up, and I'll even make something out of it. That way you can tell Mr. Harrington that you helped.”

The phrase made Pup feel like a five-year-old, but she wasn't going to turn down the offer. She thanked the competent cook and housekeeper and left the room with Camille. The older woman spoke as soon as they were in the dining room. She had been laughing and having fun in the kitchen, but now her voice was serious. It brought Pup firmly back to earth.

“Will you help me with something today, Callie?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“Will you help me find a church?”

Pup could have wept.
Here is my friend searching desperately to understand what is going on inside of her, and all I can think about is McKay,
she thought.
Camille is right. McKay doesn't care if I can cook.

“I know of a church for you,” Pup said softly. “And I'm sorry I didn't think of it before.”

“Do you really, Callie?” Camille's face was full of yearning and hope.

“Yes. It's the church McKay attends. He told me about it.” She had a sudden thought. “Go get ready to go out, Camille. I'll tell Miranda we're leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

“The church. I'm not sure of the name, but Adair MacKinnon is the pastor. We'll find it today, and then come Sunday morning, you'll know right where it is.”

Camille, as refined a lady as had ever graced the streets of Denver, looked like an excited child. Her mouth opened but no words came out.

“I'll be right back!” she finally managed, grabbing the front of her skirt and taking the stairs on a run.

Pup returned to the kitchen, and noticing that Miranda had already cleaned up her cooking disaster, informed the housekeeper of their plans. When she went to get her own things, Camille was already descending the stairs. Seeing how thrilled Camille was, Pup wasted no time. A moment later the women went out the front door.

“Do you think this is it?”

“Yes,” Pup answered, her eyes on the tall stone building with the short round steeple. She turned and paid the hack driver, thanking him kindly before he went on his way.

“Should you have done that?” Camille asked as the carriage pulled away. Camille led something of a sheltered life, making it easy for her to forget how adept Pup was at taking care of herself.

“Let the driver go?”

“Yes. What if no one is here?”

Pup was not sure why, but even though it was a Friday morning, she believed the church would be open. She did not admit this to Camille; instead, she replied, “We'll just go up and check the door.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “If it's locked, we'll sit here on this bench and talk awhile.”

“How will we get home?” Camille asked, thankful that it seemed to be a safe neighborhood.

“Just like we got here. We'll walk up the street until we spot a hack for rent.” Pup looked into her eyes and smiled. “Come on, let's go try the door.”

Camille's heart pounded in her chest as they mounted the steps, and she thought it might stop altogether when, with a low groan, the heavy wooden door opened under Pup's hand. She pulled it wide so Camille could enter in front of her, and with only the slightest hesitation, they walked in.

The interior was a pleasant surprise. It was well lit with huge side windows, and the wood of the pews and pulpit was a light, warm brown. It wasn't a huge church, seating perhaps 120 people, with a choir loft behind the pulpit that would seat about 20 more. The women were walking slowly up the center aisle when a deep voice filled the room.

“Good morning, ladies.”

Both women stopped. Coming down the aisle toward them was a large man, his broad, smiling face instantly putting them at ease.

“Good morning,” Pup answered; Camille seemed incapable of speech.

“I'm Pastor Adair MacKinnon.” He put his hand out. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Pup replied, shaking his hand. “My name is Callie Jennings, and this is my friend, Mrs. Camille Wallace.”

Adair shook Camille's hand as well.

“What brings you to the Barton Street Bible Church this morning?”

“A friend of mine, McKay Harrington, attends here, and he told me about it.”

“Ah, McKay.” Adair knew he was meeting the woman herself. “How is McKay?”

“He's doing well. I saw him last night.”

Adair's smile encompassed them. “Do you ladies live here in Denver?”

Pup looked to Camille, thinking she would at last speak up, but she still stood like a small, uncertain child.

“Mrs. Wallace lives here,” Pup filled in. “I'm just visiting from Boulder.”

“Boulder. That's a pretty area.”

“Yes, it is. Pastor MacKinnon, what time do services start on Sunday?” Pup asked.

“Ten o'clock. Do you think you might be joining us?”

Refusing to answer, this time Pup looked to Camille. Camille didn't seem to notice—her eyes were still on the pastor. He was regarding her as well.

“I have questions,” she stated softly.

“Oh? That's all right.” The pastor's voice was welcoming. “About the church?”

“No. About Christ and salvation.” It had clearly cost her to say the words, and Pup wanted to thank the man when he smiled.

“Will you come and sit for a time, ladies?”

Camille looked at Pup for the first time since entering. The younger woman nodded her head, and both followed the pastor as he led the way to the front. He directed them to the first pew. They sat side-by-side and watched as he brought a chair over from under one of the windows. He put the chair in front of them and sat down. Pup didn't know where he had gotten it, but there was also a Bible in his hand.

“Now then, Mrs. Wallace, what can I help you with?”

Nerves overcame her. Fiddling with the rings on her hands, she managed to ask, “Is it really so simple as belief ? I've read parts of my Bible just recently, and it talks about belief in Jesus Christ. Is the path to God so simple?”

The pastor looked at her with serious eyes, his mind moving fast. “Your question is a good one, Mrs. Wallace, and I want to answer you honestly—even if it's not what you want to hear. Are you willing for this?”

Camille nodded without hesitation.

“It's a serious move, salvation is. It's more than just agreement or acknowledgment. The person you're putting your trust into is not a treasured aunt or cousin, it's the God of the universe. And He's going to have expectations. He's going to help you, but there will still be costs—sometimes dear ones. The path is narrow. Anything that comes between you and making God your God has got to be moved aside. Belief, yes, Mrs. Wallace, but I'd be leading you down a rosy path if I didn't tell you there's more, much more.”

“In other words there might be some who won't be pleased with my decision?”

“Exactly. And your life may not be comfortable because of that. When Jesus preached and taught in the different towns, He confounded people. They were flabbergasted at what He was asking them to give up and to do. It's no less true today, even though we can't look Him in the eyes or touch His hand.”

“So I should give great thought to this?”

“I think great thought on this matter would be very wise indeed.”

She was silent for a time, but Pup noticed some of the apprehension had left her face. “If I don't believe today, this moment with you,” she finally asked, “can I still come on Sunday?”

“Absolutely, Mrs. Wallace.” His warm smile was genuine. “It would be our pleasure to have you—visiting like you have today or joining us for services. And I am available if you have more questions.”

Camille wanted to weep with relief. She knew what was holding her back, and indeed it still was, but knowing that she would be welcome here took a great load from her shoulders.

Camille stood, now more in charge than Pup.

“Thank you, Pastor MacKinnon. I shall be here Sunday.”

“I'll look forward to it.”

Pup shook his hand as well, and Camille led the way back up the aisle toward the door. Once outside they stood and surveyed the street. Pup looked at her friend and found her face resolute.

“I've never done a thing in all my married life without Nick's permission, Callie,” she told her quietly. “He's never had any interest in church, and I've gone along because I was comfortable doing so. I can't think what he'll say when I tell him I'm coming Sunday, but I'm going to do this. I'm going to do exactly what Pastor MacKinnon suggested. I'm going to give this great thought and make sure I know what I'm doing.”

Pup squeezed her hand but didn't speak. Pastor MacKinnon's words had touched her as well. She needed constant reminders that her God was the God of the universe. She couldn't hear it often enough. Her heart was humbled and awed, and she asked God to strengthen her in His grace and to help her understand Him more and more. Indeed, she was so intent on her prayers that she was barely aware of Camille leading them down the street and when she saw a carriage, even waving the driver to the curb.

45

Pup had prayed about Nick's response off and on all afternoon. She had felt herself beginning to worry and worked at not trying to do God's job. Camille spent quite a bit of time in her room, and Pup had prayed for her as well. Now, however, the only person on her mind was Nick. The moment was upon her. Nick had been in fine humor during dinner, and Pup knew she was going to have to put up or shut up.

He surprised her by speaking first. “I talked to McKay today.” They were in the living room with Camille. The calm demeanor of the trio belied the tension each was feeling.

“Oh,” Pup responded uncertainly, “how was he?”

“Fine. We talked about you,” the man admitted. “He seems to be under the impression that you want to leave the treasury department—” Nick paused. “That is what you've been trying to tell me, is it not?”

“Yes, Nick.”

He nodded. “According to McKay, it has nothing to do with him.”

Pup had been praying all day for an opening, and the Lord had just laid one in her lap.

“I've never met a man like McKay Harrington,” she admitted. “I don't think I need to tell you that I'm in love with him, and I know he loves me.”

A look of impatience crossed Nick's face, but Pup ignored it. Glancing at Camille, who had not said a word, Pup continued.