Wisdom Tree (18 page)

She thought of Jake—the strength of him and his kind and giving heart. He’d found Scooter and had whisked him to the vet quickly enough to save the cat’s life. He knew she loved Scooter, and that, clearly, was all that mattered to him. Jake had befriended her—fallen in love with her—and all she’d given him was a bushel full of trouble and a slew of unanswered questions. Where was the fairness in that?

Carin loved him, too. She knew it with every fiber of her being. But she didn’t deserve him. That, she also knew. Not if something didn’t change, and quick. The flash of hurt in his eyes when she refused to share with him told the story. She couldn’t hurt him, not any more than she already had. She’d pray for the right words and then tell him about Phillip—the whole story…somehow.

****

Jake saw the sedan as soon as he crested the hill and was thankful for his good instincts. Carin was seated beneath the tree, her legs stretched along a blanket and her head dipped toward a book. He recognized the navy cover and knew it was the Bible he’d given her. Carin didn’t see him, and he hadn’t alerted her by sound either, since he’d parked the Jeep at the base of the drive and hiked up.

He struggled between staying and going. She obviously needed time to be alone, to sort out whatever was going through that pretty little head of hers. But he had needs, too, and what better place to talk it out than here—beneath the canopy of the wisdom tree.

Maybe his hesitation came in the fact that he knew whatever she was harboring had to be pretty serious, or she would have shared it already. And he also sensed that whatever it was might change things between them, maybe things that were too big to fix. And then what? Could he walk away with his heart shattered?

He shook his head as he crossed the pasture, already knowing the answer. He loved Carin, and nothing she told him would change that. Nothing.

A twig snapped beneath his tennis shoe, and Carin lifted her head. Her gaze locked with his, and for a moment confusion held the reins. But then understanding took over, and she set down the Bible.

“Jake, you startled me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked so…engrossed.”

“Psalms usually does that to me.” She reached into her tote, pulled out a bottle of water. “Take this. You look…hot.”

He laughed, remembering the first time they met. “Thanks.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, for sure. I just had a hunch.” He settled on the blanket beside her and leaned back against the tree. “I stopped by school to surprise you with lunch, but Hailey said you took a personal day. So I checked your house, saw your car was gone, and just figured…” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You could have just called.”

“Nah…too easy.”

Carin laughed. “So, where’s the lunch?”

“Here.” He placed a bag on the blanket. “I know how you like grilled chicken salad, so I stopped by that place in town that you mentioned and got you one. I hope I asked for the right type of dressing.”

“Oh, Jake, that’s so…sweet.”

“Sweet’s my middle name—unless Corey’s mad at me, then I’m sure he comes up with something else altogether.”

Again, Carin laughed. “Share with me?”

“No thanks.” He shook his head and loosened the cap on the bottle of water. “No rabbit food for me. I’ll stick to burgers.”

“But you didn’t bring a burger.”

“I ate it in the car on the way here.” He rubbed his belly. “It’s a job requirement. Pastors need to be experts at eating on the run. We do it
a lot
.”

“I see.” Carin opened the white paper bag, drew out a foil tin with a cardboard cover. “This smells good.”

“Hope it tastes good, too.”

She tore open a package of ranch dressing, dumped half on the salad, and put the rest back in the bag. “I’m sorry you missed me at work.”

“But I found you here.”

“Even better.” She slipped a forkful of salad into her mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Was my class behaving for the substitute?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“
Arghh
.” She speared a piece of chicken. “No more personal days for me.”

Jake laughed. “I can see the slew of writing assignments now.”

“Jake?” Carin balanced the salad on her lap as she reached for a bottle of water. “I’m glad you came here. I…want to talk to you.”

“I was hoping you would.”

“There’s so much to say. I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning’s a good place.”

“Maybe.” She sighed. “I know I’ve been elusive…sharing things with you. I don’t mean to be, truly. It’s just…the deeper I get, the harder it is to dig myself out.”

“I know what you mean.” He slipped in beside her and settled his back against the trunk of the tree. “I’ve been there, too.”

“Did you ever have something that hurt so much, made you so angry, that you knew you had to purge yourself of it, but you just couldn’t seem to let go?”

“I’ve lost my parents, Carin. My fiancée made me choose…” He snatched a tomato from her salad and popped it into his mouth. “People think because I’m a pastor, that I have some super-human ability to deflect the basic human emotions—fear, hurt, anger, resentment—but I don’t. I feel the same as they do…as you do.”

“But you seem different, somehow—stronger.”

“I think sometimes God pulls you to the very depths of the ocean before he helps you make that climb to the summit. I’ve been there, Carin, and through it I learned to embrace the power of prayer. It’s the only way.”

“I’ve tried…truly I have. God just doesn’t seem to be listening.”

“Oh, He is. He just works in His own time.”

“How can I trust that, Jake? I want to, but I feel like I’m caught on a suspension bridge, and the wind is gusting. I’m going to fall.”

“God will catch you.” Jake reached for the Bible. “Keep reading this. It’s full of His promises.”

“I have to make peace with it—with what happened to Cameron—the best I can. It’s time, Jake.”

“I understand.”

“I spoke to my dad last night. He’s coming for a visit this weekend. I’d like you to meet him.”

“I’d like that, too.”

Jake opened the Bible to one of the pages he’d color coded with a sticky strip, and began to read.

“‘Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water, that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.’”

“That’s beautiful,” Carin murmured. “What is it?”

“From the book of Jeremiah, chapter 17. It’s one of my favorites.”

“You have a lot of favorites, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Read me another passage. Your voice…it calms me.”

He flipped through the pages. “What would you like to hear?”

“Another of your favorites.”

He settled on Psalms and read until Carin got her fill of salad. Then he paused to help her gather the empty carton back into the bag.

“Jake?” She glanced up at him as their fingers touched.

“I’m here, Carin.”

“I have some things I need to tell you.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, let it go, and rested her hands in her lap. “Things I
want
to share with you about Phillip…and me.”

“I’m listening.”

“OK. I—”

His phone rang and he groaned as he drew it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. He lifted his gaze to her. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.”

****

She waited. He spoke only a few words, listened a length of time, and then disconnected, his mouth drawn, eyes dark with concern. “I’m sorry, Carin. I have to go. Pastor Julian…he just passed away.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m so sorry.” Tears blurred her vision, and her throat tightened with grief. “Do you want me to come?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You stay here. I’ll call you when I can—later.” He rocked to his feet and bent to kiss her. “I’m sorry…I want to hear what you have to say, truly I do.”

“I know. But it can wait. Pastor Julian…”

Jake’s breath hitched and tears filled his eyes. The pastor…the man…clamped a fist to his mouth to stifle a sob, and it broke her. She drew him in, pressing her cheek to his T-shirt. His heart thumped beneath the fabric, matching the cadence of hers.

“I have to go.” He smoothed her hair, stroked the tension from her shoulders. “If I’m unable to get to the school before Corey finishes practice, can you pick him up this afternoon?”

“Of course. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, Jake.” She smoothed a hand to his cheek, felt the shadow of stubble. “Don’t worry about anything.”

17

“You can challenge me if you want,” Carin cautioned. “But I really think you’ll be sorry.”

“That’s not a word.” Corey reached for a handful of popcorn from the bowl Carin set on the table. He tossed a kernel into his mouth as he studied the Scrabble board. Nearly every space was filled, just a turn or two’s worth of tiles remaining in the red-velvet pouch set to the side of the kitchen table. “At least not the way you have it spelled.”

“Are you going to argue with your English teacher?” Carin gathered a handful of popcorn. The aroma of butter clung to the air, making her stomach grumble. She wondered if Jake was eating on the run again as he planned Pastor Julian’s memorial. The elderly man had no family, and Jake loved him like a father. Carin tamped a wave of sadness and focused on the game. “Of course
testatrix
is a word.”

“Yeah—it was one of the vocabulary words you assigned in English class. But you’ve spelled it wrong here. There should be an A between the T’s—not an E.” Corey glanced at his tiles, then the board, and Carin knew he was carefully debating his next move. “I’m going to challenge. We need a dictionary.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Carin grabbed another fistful of popcorn. “You’ll lose a turn, you know.”

“Or
you’ll
lose a turn, which is what I’m hoping for.” Corey challenged her with his gaze. “I think you’re bluffing, and I can still win this game.”

“With a miracle, maybe.” Carin enjoyed this bit of smack-talk. She was pleased to find Corey could hold his own. She’d bluffed him on purpose, hoping he’d rise to the challenge. And he had. “There’s a dictionary on the bookshelf in the living room. Grab it while I pour some iced tea.”

Corey retreated into the living room and returned a moment later flipping through the pages of her dictionary. She knew the very moment he found the word; his tennis shoes slapped the wood floor as he commenced to victory dance. “I was right!” A grin threatened to split his face wide open. “Take your tiles off the board, Miss O’Malley.”

She removed the tiles, one by one. “You
have
been paying attention in class.”

“Yes, I have.” He took the glass of tea she offered. “Check the score. You have to deduct those points.”

“Ouch, but OK.” She took a pen, recalculated their scores. “Now, tell me what it means—
testatrix
.”

Corey scratched the side of his head, squinting. The gesture reminded her of Cameron, and a slight pang zinged her heart. “It’s someone who’s made a will.”

“Be more specific.” She tapped the table with the pen. “I taught you better than that.”

“It’s a woman!” Corey shouted, slipping back into his chair. “Yes, a testatrix is a woman who’s made a will.”

“Very good, Corey.” Carin grinned at him before she drew a sip of tea. “Now, I guess you’d better take your turn, finish this out so you can brag to all your friends about how you beat your English teacher, of all people, at Scrabble.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.” He shook his head. “Well, maybe just to Dillon…and Amy. And of course I’d have to tell Jake, too.”

“Of course.” Carin laughed. “But you have to win, first.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And the timer’s ticking.” She flipped the pint-sized hourglass and set it back on the table. “So you’d better get on it quick.”

“OK. Right.” He rearranged the tiles on his rack.

“And one more thing…when we’re not at school you can call me Carin, if you’d like.”

“Cool.” Corey glanced up, caught her gaze. “I’d like that.”

****

Jake pushed the glider on Carin’s front porch into motion and drew her close.

“I love the sound of the rain.” She rested her head against his chest and sighed. “Especially rain like this—light and melodic, almost like a sweet symphony.”

Jake wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Voices from the TV drifted through an open window, and he knew Corey was curled up on Carin’s couch, jotting notes in his journal. “You smell like buttered popcorn.”

“From our Scrabble game. I made a bowl, and Corey and I devoured it.”

“Hmm…” Jake kissed her. “Tasty, too.”

She laughed, pressed a hand to his chest, and his heartbeat kicked up a notch. He wondered if she could feel it through the cotton fabric of his polo shirt. “Are you holding up OK?”

“I’m good.” He sighed. “But it
has
been a lot lately.”

“I know. And I feel like a lot of it is…my fault.”

“Stop thinking that way.” Jake leaned back in the glider, listened to the dance of rain in the gutters, and thought maybe he knew what Carin meant when she called it a sweet symphony. “Corey told me he beat you at Scrabble.”

“I’ll bet he did.”

“He’s on cloud nine. Who knew what a little victory could do?”

“Glad to sacrifice my ego to the greater good.”

“He’s writing in his journal now, probably documenting the whole event.” Jake rubbed a hand over the stubble that covered his chin. “It’s about time he writes about someone besides me.”

“He wrote about your parents…just this week.”

“He did?” The glider paused. “Is he…OK?”

“Yeah.” She nodded as the rain sluiced over the porch awning. “He got it off his chest, let go of some of the hurt. It will be easier to talk about…to write about…from this point on.”

“He rarely puts that journal down now.”