Detour: Destination Abiding Love (2 page)

A man cleared his throat.

Pastor Bill beamed and held out his hand. “Well, if it isn't Colton Smith. How's it going?”

Cole's clear blue eyes flickered, his gaze flashing from the Pastor to Sierra and back again. “I'm doing well, thanks.” He tilted his head as he looked at Sierra. “Most folks call me Cole.”

He didn't need to tell her his name. She remembered him. Who wouldn't? He had been a few classes ahead of her in school, and the star quarterback for Mount Daviston High School. Every girl had a crush on him at one point or another, and she had been no exception.

She nodded, “Hello, Cole.”

Blue eyes sparkled at her. “I really appreciated your honesty this morning, and I'd love to talk to you some more. Would you happen to be free to join me at the Village Bistro for lunch?”

Before Sierra could answer, a woman behind him gave him a pointed glare.

Although he looked over his shoulder, he didn't seem bothered. “Oh, sorry, Sierra, this is my mother and father, James and Paula Smith.”

“Hi.” Sierra held out her hand, only to be left grasping air. As nonchalantly as possible, she lowered her hand to her side and picked a nonexistent piece of lint off her blouse. “It's nice to meet you.”

Ignoring Sierra's greeting, his mother grasped his arm. “Colton, if you happen to have spare time today, your father would love to have help on his campaign.” She looked at Pastor Bill. “You know it takes many hands to prepare for the gubernatorial race.”

“I'm sure it does.”

Colton shrugged. “I'd be glad to help after lunch.” He turned back to Sierra. “So what do you say?”

“I…” She took another quick peek at his mother. Cold gray eyes shot daggers at her. Sierra swallowed hard.

“I'd really like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind,” he said.

Sierra sighed. How could she ever try to right her wrongs if she wasn't willing to take risks? Besides, running from trouble had never been her bent in life. “Sure, I'd be happy to.”

His smile would do a toothpaste commercial proud. She realized that, although they were no longer in high school, he still had the ability to make her think of romantic dreams she had neither the right—nor any desire—to pursue. She needed to be careful.

Her visit had a singular purpose, and aside from the pastor and his wife, and a few handshakes from Church members, Cole was the first person who seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. How could she not pursue this opportunity? Perhaps at least one more person would accept her for who she now was in Christ, a girl with a past, yet forgiven. She was a girl who, with God's help, desired to build bridges to cover over the muddy waters of the past.

“Great.” He looked down at his watch. “Can I meet you there in about a half hour?”

She swallowed hard and prayed she was listening to God's desires and not merely her own. “Sounds like a plan.”

 



 

“Colton Troy Smith, we need to talk.”

He hadn't even made it out the white, double-wide wooden front door. His heart sank and his stomach churned at the tone of his mother's voice. He hated how lately she tried to make him feel like he was twelve again. He tried to keep his tone calm and even. “About?”

His father waited until the door was closed behind them. “Do you really think meeting with that girl is a good idea?”

Cole didn't have the chance to open his mouth before his mother answered for him. “Of course it's not a good idea!” She shoved her purse strap farther up her arm as she stomped down the slate steps to the sidewalk. “Colton, we raised you to use your head when making decisions. Clearly, for whatever reason, that's not happening now.” The door opened behind them and she lowered her voice to a hiss. “Therefore, we forbid you to go meet that…that…”

Cole stiffened and stopped short. He'd been dealing with his mother's ever shortening temper for some time. Often the balancing between honoring her, as he had been taught in church, and preventing her from trying to control everything, felt like a tightrope act. “Whoa. Wait just a sec.”

“Paula, let's discuss this later,” his father said, resting a hand on her arm.

“But later is when he's going to the Village Bistro.”

“Look, I don't have time to discuss this.” Cole tried to keep the sound of exasperation out of his voice. “I promised you I'd help with the campaign later this afternoon, and I will, but,”—he softened his voice to take the edge off—“I'm a grown man and will decide how I want to spend the rest of my day.”

 



 

Cole's pulse sped up as Sierra closed the bistro's door behind her. She glanced around the cozy coffee shop where small round tables dotted the room. The color of her eyes reminded him of his favorite sun-bleached football. Her gaze settled on him. He grinned and stood, holding onto her chair back. “Thanks for coming.”

“I hope I haven't caused friction between you and your folks.”

Cole waved away her concern. “Ah, don't worry about it. My parents have been tied in knots over my dad's campaign. Lately it seems to have taken over their lives.” He glanced out the back window, but hardly noticed the meadow or the thin line of the lazy river. Instead, he thought about his parents' lack of manners this morning. It was not only out of character, but puzzling. Ever since his father decided to run for office, his parents had been sure to keep up a good face for the public. Yet this morning, his mother fell just short of making a scene in the church narthex. He sighed and rubbed behind his neck. This wasn't the time to try to figure it out, though. “Hey.“ He pointed to the counter. “Shall we order some lunch?”

“Sure.” As she made her way up to the cashier, she glanced from the floor to the photographs lining the walls. “The Village Bistro has changed a bit, but it still has the same homey feel and beautiful rustic colors.”

“Spoken like the artist you are.”

She grinned. “Guess you can tell by my clothing that I appreciate lots of styles.”

“I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I noticed the top you were wearing earlier today in church.”

“I thought about wearing something more traditional, but,” She scrunched her pert little nose. ”It's just not me.” She read the specials on board. “I used to love their chicken Panini. Do they still sell them?”

“You mean the one covered in mushrooms and onions where the Vermont cheddar cheese oozes out over the sides?”

Sierra licked her lips. “That's the one.”

His stomach growled, and grinning, he placed his hand against his abdomen. “You bet, and I believe my stomach is telling me it's the perfect thing to have.”

She laughed. “There will be no argument from me.”

As he waited for the person in front of him to finish her order, he peeked into the glass display case. “Can I tempt you with a goodie, too?”

“Hmm...that napoleon does look delicious.”

He nodded, thankful there was at least one female not afraid of food. “Great. It's settled, then.”

The customer before them moved off to the side counter to pick up some napkins.

The cashier called out, “Hi, Cole. What can I get you?”

He winked at Sierra. “We'd like a double order of the chicken Panini along with two napoleons.”

She scribbled the order on her pad. “Anything to drink?”

Sierra stepped forward. As her shoulder brushed up against his arm, he caught a soft whiff of the clean fragrance she wore. What was it about Sierra that made him so aware of her presence? Since church, he couldn't get her, or what she had said, off his mind.

“Just water for me, please.”

“Make that two.”

The cashier stepped to the register. “Sure thing.”

As she totaled their bill, Cole leaned toward Sierra. “I've got this covered. Why don't you keep our table from being taken?”

Sierra placed her hand on her purse. “It's OK. I can pay for my half.”

“No, please, let me. I'm the one who asked you to come. The least I can do is pay for your lunch.”

Her clear brown eyes bored into his as if she were seeking something. Exactly what, he had no idea, but she must have found whatever she was looking for because she gave a quick nod. “OK, but if there's a next time, the treat's on me. It's not like this is a date or anything.”

He wouldn't have minded if it were, yet she seemed to be making it clear that she wasn't interested. “I can handle that, and if it's up to me, I can tell you right now I'd like there to be a next time.”

 



 

Sierra scooted away from Cole as quickly as possible without being too obvious. She was beginning to wonder if he had heard what she said in church. One thing was sure; his parents had. They wanted him to stay away from her. Yet, here was Cole, insinuating he'd like to get together again. It was...well, more than a little awkward. Granted, she was thrilled for his overtures of friendship, but the question that began to eat at the lining of her stomach was, would the town folk accept her if they thought she was trying to corrupt someone's son? Besides that, she didn't want to cause any further animosity between Cole's family members. God had given her a task—seek reconciliation. Now if only He had given detailed instructions.
Lord, I'm trying. I really am
. She took a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves. Between the morning's events, and this lunch date, she was sure it was only a matter of time before a migraine hit.

Her fingers itched for her violin bow. Perhaps then, as the music flowed, she could process everything and figure out what was going on. Or at least gain some perspective through prayer.

“Here we are.” Cole set a large, red plastic cup of water in front of her. “Sue will bring our food out when it's ready.”

“Thank you.” She looked up from beneath her lashes as she felt, more than saw, him occupy the seat next to her. “It was kind of you to buy my lunch.” She took the white linen napkin off the table and tucked it onto her lap.

He grinned and an alluring dimple appeared on his cheek. “To be honest, I do have a motive.”

“Oh?” Her voice cracked.
What motive? He couldn't be romantically interested in me, could he?

Cole broke the paper off his straw and tapped it on the table until the straw was free. He slipped it into the ice water. “As I mentioned in church, your testimony left me with some questions.”

Her lungs filled with sweet oxygen once again. Questions about her faith were something she'd feel comfortable talking to him about. The other subject, well, she wouldn't even go there. “Sure, shoot. I'll answer whatever question you have, if I can.”

Cole clasped his large fingers around the cup. His hands were so big she just stared at them for a moment. It looked as if he could handle anything, but she knew all too well strength was just an illusion. Her dad had been strong at one time. She was his little girl, but so much had changed. Clearly, even the strongest of men could buckle under the right circumstances. Only one didn't—Jesus. He was the only person who was one hundred percent human and one hundred percent God.

Cole chuckled. “They used to call me the Bear.”

“Huh?”

He lifted his hands. “The guys on my high school team started the nickname.”

“You were a good football player, I'll give you that.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “You saw me play?”

“Don't sound so astonished. Granted, you were a senior when I was in eighth grade, but I had some friends who went to Daviston. We'd go watch your games.”

“All of them?”

Her face grew warm, and she itched to be less than honest. Heaven forbid he think she was flirting with him. She refolded her napkin. “Every home game.”

He let his back thump against the chair. “Huh, what do you know about that.” He rubbed his chin. “When you were speaking this morning, I vaguely recognized you, but I don't think we ever met formally.” He tilted his head to the side. “If we had, I think I would have remembered.”

She took a sip of her water to moisten her suddenly parched throat. This conversation wasn't going the way she had hoped. She wanted to talk about the present but apparently, he wanted to talk about the past. There wasn't much more she hated than talking about herself or her dysfunctional family. She had already done that once today, and only because she knew with certainty that was what God wanted her to do. But this one-on-one business felt different.

She clenched her jaw. “No, we hadn't been formally introduced. Even if we had, there's nothing special about me that you would have remembered. Especially when I was an awkward, skinny teen.” She shivered just thinking about those years. She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the past. “You mentioned you have some questions you wanted to ask me about my testimony?”

He folded his arms across the broad expanse of his chest. Thankfully, he let the topic of her teen years drop. “I do. I saw your sincerity this morning when you spoke.” He leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table. “Even with all that you went through, you seemed so...anchored.”

She felt like she had just been walloped by a two-by-four. “I seem anchored?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Me?” She pointed to her chest. “For most of my life I've floundered around, barely keeping my head above the rough water.”

“But it's different now. You're different. I could tell by the way you spoke in Church.” Cole pushed his straw up and down through the ice in his cup, but his steady gaze never left hers. “You knew you needed to come back to Daviston, right?”

She gave a nod. “I'm like that little guy—Zacchaeus. I want to give back what I've taken.”