Authors: Jan Karon
Light From Heaven (55 page)
“It’ll get my heart rate up,” he said, glad for something to do.
“Coming again soon?” he asked Del.
“If m’ back don’t go out.” She was shifting the kitchen table away from the stove so she could open the door and clean the oven. She gave Lloyd and Buster a look they’d be grateful to have missed.
“Know anyone who sits with the elderly, does a little cooking, that sort of thing?”
“Th’ trouble with elderly is, you don’t
sit
with ’em, they keep you bobbin’ up an’ down like a jack in th’ box.”
sit
with ’em, they keep you bobbin’ up an’ down like a jack in th’ box.”
“But do you know anyone?”
“Our mama’s done that ...”
“Terrific!”
“But now
she’s
elderly. So, no, sir, I don’ know n’body.”
she’s
elderly. So, no, sir, I don’ know n’body.”
“I’m baking a cake today,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.
Del had dropped to her knees and was getting on with it.
“Know anything about cake baking?” Baking a ham was one thing, but cake was another.
“Not a bloomin’ thing, an’ don’t want t’ learn. I knowed a woman who choked t’ death on coconut cake. That done it f‘r me right there. I only bake pie, now, an’ as little of that as I can git by with.”
He’d get no help around here.
He hadn’t threatened or cajoled or demanded, he’d said what had to be said, and there was no turning back. He had spoken the truth in love, and that would have to be OK.
He prayed again for Sammy’s safekeeping, and for God to lift the heaviness from both their hearts and give them wisdom.
Cynthia said she’d be waiting when Sammy came home, and in the meantime, Holy Trinity’s vicar was to go and do something for himself that wasn’t work related, something light and amusing and entirely brainless.
But he didn’t know how to do that
, he’d protested.
, he’d protested.
I’m sure you can come up with something
, she’d said, gazing at him as if he were a four-year-old.
, she’d said, gazing at him as if he were a four-year-old.
For one thing, he thought as he started the truck, he might drop in on Blake Eddistoe on his way to Mitford to get the cake ingredients. After all, they hadn’t seen Blake in weeks, except to wave whenever they glimpsed him down at the kennels.
And then he would ...
As he was trying to figure a further agenda, he forgot his mission and blew past the clinic and out the gate and onto the state road. The new wayside pulpit flashed by.
IF GOD IS YOUR CO-PILOT,
CHANGE SEATS.
CHANGE SEATS.
And then he would ...
Would what? He was brainless, all right, not to mention sick at heart.
It occurred to him that Sammy may have hitchhiked to Wesley. So maybe he should turn around and go home and call Bud Wyzer. But no, it was too early; the pool hall didn’t open ’til one o’clock.
Out of the blue, the proverbial lightbulb switched on. He was amazed that he could come up with a sensible idea at a time like this.
“She’s back there somewhere,” said Judd Baker. “I’ve seen her with my own eyes this morning, she bought baking soda.”
“Don’t let me get out of here without ingredients for a cake,” said the vicar. “And before I go, I’d be grateful to use your phone, into the bargain. Local call.”
“No problem.What kind of cake? I’ll be glad to pull your stuff together.”
“Hadn’t thought of what kind ...” Blast. Now he had to figure what kind. “Don’t have a clue. What do you think?”
“Can’t go wrong with chocolate.”
“Do it, and I’ll appreciate it.”
“Nuts in your frosting?”
“Whatever you say. Surprise me!” He’d be surprised, all right, if he could bake a cake that anybody would eat.
“Miss Lottie?”
He merely tapped on the door, not wishing to startle her. When he got no answer, he knocked louder—Absaloms widowed sister may have trouble hearing.
The door opened and a stooped, whitehaired woman peered out. “Miss Lottie! Father Tim Kavanagh, Absalom’s old friend.”
She looked at him curiously, then smiled in recognition.
“Is this a good time?”
“You’ll have to speak up!” called Judd.
“Is this a good time, Miss Lottie?”
“Oh, yes, anytime is a good time for a friend of Absalom’s.” She stepped aside for him to pass into the sitting room.
He felt a stab of nostalgia. The room was more beautiful than he remembered, with a clematis vine grown over the small window like crochet work. The minuscule fireplace with its rock surround sat beneath a shelf of smoke-blackened cherry that displayed faded photographs of Greer’s Store in its heyday, and a hand-colored portrait of Absalom as a young evangelist.
“I’m sorry to hear about your cat, Miss Lottie.”
“Thomas gave me eighteen years of mousing and companionship.That should be enough for anybody, but I miss him, nonetheless.”
Her hand trembled as she indicated Absalom’s chair. Then she took the chair across from him, where she’d stationed herself for so many years as her brother’s companion, confidante, nursemaid, and housekeeper.
“I’ve been hoping you would come,” she said, lowering her eyes to her lap. “Absalom thought the world of you. You were always so kind to us, and thoughtful.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but it was you and your brother who were kind to me. I did stop by recently; but I’m ashamed I haven’t been here more often.”
“Everyone’s so busy,” she said, as if bewildered by this truth.
“I hear you get out and about.”
She nodded, smiling. “When I can.”
“I miss Absalom. He was the best of the lot.”
“Yes. He was.” Always shy, she seemed shyer still. “I wanted to tell you how it grieves me to know I failed him.”
“Good heavens! In what way, may I ask?”
“You know I was against his love for Sadie Baxter. All those years, I conspired against Sadie, and spoke meanly of her, for I didn’t wish to lose my brother.”
She raised her head and looked at him with frank, brown eyes. “As children, Absalom and I were as thick as thieves, as Mother used to say, and he was always tender to his little sister. Each summer, he climbed the cherry tree and brought me down a hatful of cherries.”
“I always wanted a brother or sister,” he said, as if thinking aloud.
“When my husband died after such a brief marriage, Absalom took me in. I didn’t have to worry about anything at all. He depended on the Lord and I depended on Absalom.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “He was everything to me, and now it’s too late.”
“Too late for what, Miss Lottie?”
“To late to ask forgiveness of them both. I so regret not asking their forgiveness.”
“I’m sure you’ve asked God’s forgiveness.”
“No,” she said. “I never have. God was Absalom’s territory. I let him handle such things for us both.”
“Ah.”
“I never understood God in the way Absalom did.”
“What do you mean?”
“God seemed so near to Absalom, and so distant to me. I would go to my brother and say, ‘Brother, will you pray for a good crop of potatoes this year?’ And he would pray and the Lord would faithfully provide. When I prayed, it didn’t seem to ... work. So I quit. Long years ago.”
She sounded wistful.
“It’s never too late, Miss Lottie.”
“For what, Father?”
“For the peace of His forgiveness.”
A breeze stirred the clematis vine at the window, rearranging the pattern of light on the hearth rug.
“When we ask God to forgive us—and we must ask—the peace floods in. By emptying ourselves of the guilt and regret, we make room for His grace.”
She sat looking at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.
“Absalom was a man after God’s own heart, and I have no doubt that He loved your brother mightily. But He loves you, too. Do you know that?”
“I don’t know that ... like I should. I never thought it important for me to know all those things about the Lord, if Absalom knew them. I believed my only task was to serve my brother, so he could serve the Almighty.”
“Serving your brother was a great service to God. Look how fit you helped keep Absalom as he preached all those years to his little handfuls. Think of the souls that were saved in his long years of ministry, and the lives that were changed forever.You had something to do with that, Miss Lottie, something important.”
Tears shone in her eyes.
“I miss him most after supper,” she said, “when he’d tell me about his day out in the world.”
“He sat right here, didn’t he?”
“Yes, right there, for all those years. That was his spot to study the Word, and think on his sermons, and read. He wasn’t school educated, you know.”
“I know.”
“He educated himself.”
“That may be best, in the end.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “If you ask, you still have a companion you can talk with every evening after supper.”
She leaned her head to one side, pondering his meaning.
“The Spirit of God Himself, made known through Jesus Christ, will sit here with you. If that’s something you might want.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, my gracious.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t even think such a thing.Why would He want to ... to sit with me?” She looked at him, aghast.
“Miss Lottie, if you had a child, wouldn’t you like to spend time with her in the evenings and go over the affairs of the day? Enjoy being together?”
“Oh, yes!” she said.
“You’re God’s child.You can tell Him everything, and ask Him anything. And think how grateful He’d be for your company.”
She shook her head, dumbstruck.
“In the book of Revelation, we learn why He created us—it was for His pleasure. Indeed, He made us for Himself.”
“Absalom used to say that—that He made us for Himself.” A certain wonder softened her features.
“It isn’t too late, Miss Lottie.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. It’s time.”
He left the sitting room with a feeling of elation.
“Chocolate cake mix, frosting in a can, walnuts,” said Judd. “You got eggs?”
Other books
Emperor Mage by Pierce, Tamora
Dogfight by Adam Claasen
Scattering Like Light by S.C. Ransom
Memoirs of a Hoyden by Joan Smith
A Rare Gift by Jaci Burton
The Third Man by Graham Greene
Bondage by Owen, Chris, Payne, Jodi
The Tanners by Robert Walser
Dirty Little Lies by Julie Leto