Whispers of the Heart (20 page)

“Oh, yes.” She understood, then, what Brent needed. The lesson he was trying to teach his son. “I do. I accept your apology, Timmy. And I want to be friends again?” She ended on the question, her gaze on Brent. “If you'll forgive me, too? For leaving you alone to talk on the phone?”

“Uh-huh. You're my friend, Autumn.” Timmy brushed the heel of his hand against his eyes, his voice growing eager. “But see, I wasn't by myself.”

“You weren't?”

“Nuh-uh. Jesus was with me. He told me so.”

“He did? When did He…when…?”

“When you were huntin' for me, Autumn. Just like my Grandma said. And Pastor David. They told me Jesus is always with me, so I wasn't scared. I knew where I was and so did Jesus.”

Speechless. She was speechless. Hadn't she heard the same phrase?
I am always with you….

She opened her mouth to say something. Anything. No words formed on her lips. She could only stare at Brent, whose misty gaze reflected her own amazement, and he shook his head.

For a moment, she fought her own tears. How could a child so young have so much faith?

Then Brent asked the question she hadn't yet formed. “Timmy, what did you mean when you said you heard Jesus when Autumn was hunting for you?”

“He told me to sit down and wait so she could find me. He waited with me.”

“He did?” Brent murmured.

Autumn's eyes engaged Brent's again, wondering what to think, and what he thought of the incredible story Timmy was unfolding.

“Uh-huh.” Timmy turned to her. “Didn't he tell you where to look for me?”

The words she'd heard in her heart, from her soul, came back to her, clear and full of calming peace.

“Why, yes, Timmy. I believe he did, at that. Something…” Taking another deep breath, she plunged ahead. “Someone spoke to me. Encouraged me to keep looking for you. I was…very frightened. That crowd… You see…” Her eyes were on Brent, now, unwavering as she tried to put all her appeal for his understanding into words.

“You see, once—I was a little older than you, but once I got lost in a mob of people just like that one at the market yesterday. I was separated from my mom and my sister. I don't remember how long it was or where it happened, but it was hours and hours. They finally found me, but something inside here—” she placed her hand on her chest “—got broken.”

She had to stop and swallow. Talking about it felt like shards of glass in her chest, but she thought it vital to tell Timmy of her experience. And Brent.

Brent's eyes were dark. Dark as molasses.

She let her lashes drop, and began again. “Soon after that, my mother went away and never came back, so for a long time I thought it was my fault. She wanted to come home, I think, but she got sick and died before my sister and I ever saw her again. So…large crowds of people make me scared.”

“Where was your daddy? Didn't he take care of you?”

“Well…” she said, thinking a moment. She and Spring had never known their father. Mother had simply said he wasn't a part of their lives and that was the way of things. But she couldn't tell Timmy that, so she simply said, “My daddy was gone long before that. But Spring and I had someone who really cared about us. Uncle William. And Jesus. It's only that I didn't know about Jesus then, like you do.”

“Well,” Timmy said, “now that you know, you don't have to be scared anymore.”

“No…” Her gaze lifted. Hot tears, cleansing and releasing, began to fall and roll down her cheeks. “No, I think you're right. I don't have to be scared anymore. But it might still take a little work for me to, um…”

A shining knowledge enfolded her with a certainty beyond her understanding. She knew it to be true.

Brent knew it, too. “Autumn, I'm sorry, too. I didn't realize…forgive me for being so dense.”

“And the next time we go where there's lots of people,” Timmy assured her. “I'll hold your hand.”

“You will?”

“
We
will,” Brent interjected. “As long as you need us to.”

T
he official reopening of the Community Church of Hope was heralded on the radio and by news ads. The public was invited to come and tour the refurbished church buildings and stay for the evening rededication service in the old chapel.

Autumn tentatively agreed to attend the evening service after Brent promised they'd sit in the back with an easy access to the outside doors. Catherine had returned from her trip and promised to meet them at the church.

Curtis said he'd come, too, after she'd coaxed him with promises to teach a beginner's watercolor class on Saturday. He'd also expressed an interest in meeting Catherine.

Sunday loomed as a big day for the church, a day expected to be full of great spiritual blessings, and new hope for the old neighborhood. It also promised to be a day of personal recognition for Autumn.

That sudden realization, ignited by David and
Wendy's excitement and the ladies of the Power Hour, gave her the shy willies. But whatever jitters she battled, she tried keeping to herself. Too many people already thought her…strange.

Brent picked her up and they drove the few blocks in near silence. Autumn fidgeted with the ankle-length silk skirt Spring had sent her, smoothing the blue print over her knees, tracing a finger around a tiny blossom.

“Don't be so nervous, honey,” Brent said gently, reaching for her hand at a stoplight. She might have known she couldn't fool him. “You don't have to stand and meet people. Wendy said Cordy is going to greet everyone as they pass through the corridor. She's enthusiastic enough about your wall to tell half of Missouri about it. You don't have to say a thing if you don't want to.”

The few members of the church staff and some of the Power Hour ladies planned to take groups of people on a tour to show off the revamped facilities.

“I suppose.” She hated admitting to how nervous she felt; but her mural was one of the primary displays, Wendy had told her. Thank God, they hadn't asked her to meet the visitors.

Yet the overwhelming sense of panic she used to feel with even the
idea
of entering a crowd or a place of gathering was missing. And Brent had promised they'd step outside if she began to feel suffocated in any way at all.

Brent wove his fingers through hers as they walked from the street parking toward the church. She glanced up at him, drawing strength from his confi
dence that life should be fully embraced. “I won't leave your side,” he murmured low.

“Mmm…” was all she was able to answer. They'd waited rather late to join the opening, choosing just before the service was about to begin. It bothered her quite a lot that he found a constant need to reassure her. Did he think she'd run away if he didn't?

Yet only time could prove how much stronger she felt. Only time would show how much of herself she'd gained these past few weeks, and in spite of her jitters, she now knew she had the Lord beside her.

“I'm trusting this evening to You, Lord,” she whispered to bolster herself.

Timmy ran ahead when he spotted Catherine. Brent's mother smiled warmly at her as she took her grandson's hand; yet behind her gaze, lay subtle speculation. But that gaze also held real compassion, Autumn saw. She smiled back, accepting the friendship offered.

Would Catherine really like for Autumn to be Timmy's mother? Or Brent's wife? Would she truly approve a woman who wasn't ready to be a part of her son's public life?

But then, Brent hadn't asked her, had he? Autumn reminded herself.

Maybe he wouldn't. After all, he hadn't even said he
loved
her.

Maybe he didn't.

A fluttering began in her tummy. Oh, the desire for intimacy between them was real. Quite real. But was he confusing desire with love? Or did he merely
want to rescue her from her own failings? To
do
something?

Being honest with herself—and during the far reaches of the night when she had only herself and the Lord to talk to, she'd faced some honest truths about herself—she wondered if Brent was confusing love with compassion when he looked at her. And she'd come to a decision: as much as she wanted to join her life with Brent's, she wanted him only if he honestly wanted her as much in return.

Autumn smiled at Brent now. His gaze sparkled at her, filling her up from her toes.

Brent's
actions
were certainly those of a man in love, she mused. They'd talked every day since that morning in the church hall. Two or three times during the day and evening.

Plus, they did things together. Lunch, twice, and dinner with Timmy, and long walks in the park.

And just before bedtime, the phone would ring.

Her heart always thumped excitedly when she heard his voice, and sometime she heard raw desire for her in his voice as he said good-night. She never made an attempt to cover her own. She loved him so much she thought it must leap from her breast with a great burst of sky rockets for anyone to see.

She still couldn't tell if that love would stretch for a lifetime. Maybe no one ever knew, she thought sadly. After all, her mother had once said the man who had fathered Spring and her, had loved them—for a little while.

“This is the day the Lord has made,” David greeted them, putting a close on Autumn's negative thoughts. He shook hands with Brent and her as they
passed through the main doors of the old chapel. “Just in time, folks. We're about to start.”

Brent, his smile so broadly happy and so attractive she thought every woman in sight might just melt under it, answered in kind with, “Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised.”

Curtis waited for them just inside the foyer. Autumn felt grateful for his presence, and tucked her other hand inside his arm. Thus, flanked on each side with people she trusted, she tentatively stepped into the old chapel.

She stood a moment. The church auditorium was almost three quarters full. More than she'd anticipated.

They looked like a multitude. She bit her lip and felt the trembling begin in her knees. Neither man seemed to notice.

Lord, please stay with me…I don't want to be so scared.

Among all the unknown faces, Autumn spotted a dark-hued face of one of the women from the Power Hour. The woman smiled and waved. Autumn smiled back.

And some of the men who'd worked on the church buildings sat sprinkled among the many strangers. Then she spotted Ashley and Sam. And Wendy, down in front. Faces bright with expectation and love.

They took a pew toward the rear, slipping into place next to Catherine and Timmy. Ashley and Sam sat immediately in front of them.

“A nice turnout,” Catherine whispered.

“Yes, this is great,” Brent returned.

The service began with praise music, provided by Wendy playing a brand-new upright piano. Autumn knew Brent and his mother had donated it—Wendy had told her. Her fears began to ease.

Several people, Brent included and asked in advance, gave short welcomes and comments on the reopening. The collective mood was enthusiastic and reverent in turns. Then David preached a rather short, but victorious and hope-filled sermon.

To close, David asked them all to bow their heads in a final prayer, urging them to open their hearts to God. Autumn, like Brent next to her, obeyed the directive. She felt more peace than she'd ever known in her life.

Then from somewhere, the low notes of a lone clarinet began, gently singing into the high, open chapel room.

Autumn caught her breath, her eyes flew wide. Could it be? She raised her head to look around.

A violin joined the clarinet, its strings giving a joyous lift, then a melodious saxophone. Around her, others raised their heads and looked for it, too. Next to Brent, Timmy scooted forward to lean on the pew in front of him.

“That's Autumn's music,” he said very clearly. No one bothered to shush him.

Then she spotted them. Emerging from the side door, the one leading to her corridor, came three players. Sam, with the sax. The man with the rheumy eyes that Autumn had met at lunch that day, with a violin. And Cordy, with a clarinet. The three musicians.

Several heads turned to look her way, but the low
murmurs soon died while everyone listened. The music lifted in the lovely melody she now recognized. From beside her Brent took her hand and held tight while slow tears trickled down her face. She hadn't imagined a thing.

Then it occurred to her Brent and Timmy had been faithful to her account even while others had thought her…strange.

From behind his podium, David appeared dumb-founded. He turned to look at Wendy, who shrugged her shoulders all too innocently. No one was left in doubt of who had been keeping secrets.

The three played with their hearts, as old fingers managed strings and bows and keys, and Sam's young ones hurried to keep up.

When they concluded their offering, the listening, awe-filled audience exploded in applause. David concluded the service with the thought that God had truly been praised.

“Actually, I didn't find out who it was until after we'd searched the chapel that day,” Wendy insisted later to Autumn and Brent after people around them gave her a good-natured ribbing. They stood holding cups of cold punch, nibbling on cookies in the church dining room. “But Sam and Cordy begged me not to tell.”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered, looking guilty. “Sorry to make a case of it, Autumn. Ashley said you were a mite upset. But we wanted our music to be a gift and we didn't know if we could pull it together in time.”

“I'd just like to know how I could hear you so clearly when I painted,” Autumn said, her gaze on Cordy. “And no one else heard it.”

The old woman grinned. “We were in the chapel's old basement. I think the sound must've carried up from there. And since Sam here had to get to work in the mornings, we picked the dawn hours mostly to practice. Didn't matter to me. I don't sleep much at night, anyway.”

“You encouraged us a heap, young lady, when you insisted it wasn't just noise,” the old man injected. “Thank ye kindly for that. We was about to call it quits 'til then. But you called it lovely. Now we got two more who wants to join us. Afore long, we'll have a orchestra.”

Hours later, Brent took her home. Timmy'd gone with Catherine.

She'd left only a low lamp on; when they entered her apartment, Brent placed his hand over hers, resting on the light switch.

“Don't,” he said softly, and led her over to the comfortable old chair she'd placed near her north window for viewing. He pulled her down to sit next to him. There, he kissed her, long and passionately, his lips sending a fiery cascade of sensation down her limbs.

“Autumn, honey, I can't go on like this.” His hands caressed her arms and stroked her long fingers.

“Like what?” Startled, she pulled back from him an inch.

“Like a man never intended to be a saint,” he said, a gentle chuckle bubbling forth.

“Oh? Were you aiming for sainthood?”

“Nope. Hadn't given it a single thought.”

“Then why complain?”

“Because these last weeks I've
been
a saint. Or
tried to be. I've kept my hands from wandering and my thoughts…well, I have to confess, where you're concerned, my thoughts have wandered plenty.”

The corners of his mouth tilted as he continued. “I've had to have more than one conversation with the Lord about it and doused my head with ice water, too. So if you don't want me to turn into an awful sinner, Autumn honey, we'd better get married pronto.”

“Get married?” she squeaked.

“Don't you like the idea?”

“Um, as a matter of fact…um…”

“Don't you want to live with me? Be my wife? And Timmy's mother?”

“Oh, I want that with all my heart, Lord knows. But are you certain you want me…?” She stopped speaking and looked away from him to bite down hard on her lip. Then forcing herself to breathe again, she muttered, “With all my hang ups? I think it would take an inordinate amount of…of love to…to love me enough to…”

“To what?”

“To see past my disability.” Her whisper came past her closed throat.

Brent pulled her closer for a moment, nuzzling her forehead with his lips. “Is that it? Don't you think I love you enough? Aw, Autumn…”

He turned her then, and pointed her to look outside where the first stars of evening twinkled.

“See those stars twinkling out there? And that moon? I'm as certain that I love you as I am that God placed those stars there. And whatever we face, whatever problems come our way, we'll face them
with that same certainty that God can direct us to solve them, or deal with them, or simply live with them if we must. But hear my solemn promise now, Autumn…”

“What is it?”

“I'll never leave you…never as long as those stars hang. I love you.”

“And I'll never stop loving you,” she responded with fervency.

They were married just one month later in the old chapel. True to both their wishes, it was a small wedding, attended only by a few close friends besides immediate family. Spring flew home with a simple wedding gown and bridesmaid dress she'd designed and stitched, and Brent's brother Drew came from California.

“What are you going to do with the apartment?” Curtis asked later, as they gathered at Brent's house for a catered supper.

“I think we're going to keep it for now,” Autumn said. “It's convenient for my studio…”

“…and only across the street from my office,” Brent finished for her, giving Autumn a look that caused her cheeks to flush.

“And we like the view,” she murmured on a loving note, her own gaze deepening.

“Oh, yes indeed. We like the view,” Brent agreed. “At night, God's handiwork in the stars can be seen very well from there.”

“It's lovely,” she added.

“Yes,” Brent agreed, never taking his eyes from
her. “Magnificent. Like the promise of love fulfilled.”