Winter Winds (33 page)

“You should.” He cupped her cheek gently, his leather glove cold against her skin. “But they’re only human, and sometimes—” He paused and looked away. “Sometimes they let you down big-time.” She knew that now he was talking about her.

“So what do we do?” she asked quietly. “How do we fix it?”

He looked back at her with great intensity. “Offer each other what God has offered us in Christ.”

“And that is?” she asked, though she knew what he was going to say.

“Forgiveness.”

Exactly the answer she’d expected. “So just like that, you’re supposed to overlook years of hurt and loneliness and pain? You make believe nothing ever happened?”

“Not just like that. It’s a willful choice to let go of something you know happened. There’s no denial in forgiveness. God knows full well that I’ve done many wrong things, but He has chosen to put them away. In the same way, we have to choose to let go of the wrong done us, the hurt dealt us by another.”

Dori felt truth pressing in on her.
God, I can’t! I just can’t!

Won’t?
said a quiet voice inside.

Can’t!
And once again she chose safety.

“So when Jonathan goes after you, you’re just going to forgive him? Does that mean you’re going to stand by and watch him ruin your reputation?”

He frowned, and she knew he was disappointed in her. She swallowed against the pain that realization brought, but she didn’t back down. “You’re just going to wait for Jonathan to strike?” She laid her hand on his sleeve. “I don’t want him hurting you because of me.” She had never meant anything more.

He looked at her, and the love and understanding she saw in his eyes nearly brought her to her knees.

Ryan threw the door open and saved her from saying or doing something she wasn’t yet ready for.

“Hey, Pastor Paul.” He had a bowl of cookies ’n’ cream ice cream in his hand, his eyes fixed on a great spoonful as he brought
it to his mouth. Jack stood beside him, watching the spoon as avidly as Ryan.

“Didn’t you get enough to eat at the party?” Trev slipped his arm around Dori and led her inside. “We’ll finish this conversation another time,” he whispered softly in her ear.

“He didn’t get enough, and neither did I,” called Phil from the living room. He held out his own dish of ice cream as Dori and Trev began shedding their coats.

“I did,” Maureen called, holding up empty hands.

“Such a good girl,” Phil said, but his affectionate tone muted any sarcastic bite.

Ryan shoved the ice cream in his mouth, and Jack’s shoulders slumped. Ry smiled beatifically as he savored his treat. He swallowed. “Did you know Bob Warrington is living with Penni? Are they having an affair or something? And I hear you won’t let him play on the church basketball team. We’re going to lose the championship now, you know. And is it true that Penni can’t sing in the choir? Now it’s just the old ladies who warble.” He demonstrated, letting out a long
ahh
as he pounded himself on the chest multiple times.

“You could always join the choir and keep the old ladies in line,” Trev said.

“Yeah, right.” He spooned up some more ice cream. “How long do you think it’ll be before Mr. Warrington goes for your throat?”

As a welcome home greeting, Dori thought, it was a lulu.

When no one answered him, Ryan shrugged. “Not something to talk about in front of the kid, huh?”

Trev grinned and ruffled Ry’s hair. “Good try though.”

Ryan offered his spoonful of ice cream first to Jack who took several licks, then to Trudy who demanded equal time. “Dori, there’s a package here for you.” Without a thought to dog saliva or germs, he plunged the spoon back into the cookies ’n’ cream. “I found it on the porch when I got home from school. I brought it in and forgot about it.” He pointed.

Trev picked up the box and offered it to Dori. The return address was Pop and Honey’s in Amhearst. Dori sat on the sofa and opened it. She pushed aside the tissue paper covering the
contents and stared at a red Lands’ End Squall with navy lining. She could see DORI written in block letters on the iron-on tape Honey had affixed all those years ago so people could tell which jacket belonged to which person.

She raised tear-filled eyes to Trev who was hanging up his red Squall. “They saved it,” she whispered. “They actually saved it.”

F
RIDAY MORNING BEFORE
going to the store, Dori stopped at Mae’s rehab center and gave her all the catalogues that had accumulated since her injury.

“Go through them and tell me what to order,” Dori said.

Mae nodded. “I’ll call later.”

Dori looked at the collection of get-well cards taped to the wall beside Mae’s bed. “How much longer will you be here?”

Mae made a face and shook her head. “I have no idea, but I’ll tell you I’m bored to tears! How many crossword puzzles can one woman do? At least I know Ryan’s being taken care of.”

“He’s having a ball with Jack and Trudy. Trev and I are there to feed him and take him where he needs to go, but it’s the dogs that make missing you manageable.” She told Mae the story of Trudy falling in love with Ryan, making it sound as comic as she could.

Mae smiled. “I keep telling myself I should feel bad that he’s with you and pastor as you start out your marriage, but I’m truly delighted. He needs to be around a godly man to see how one lives, and they don’t come much better than Pastor Paul.”

She sounded just like Clooney, the beach guy.

Mae sighed. “Sometimes I feel so badly for Ryan it actually hurts to breathe.” Tears filled her eyes, and only by blinking furiously did she keep them from spilling down her face. She sniffed. “What would we ever do without the Lord?”

The question haunted Dori as she drove to Harbor Lights. Any way you looked at it, Mae’s life had been as full of disappointments and hurt as Ryan’s, yet she still had a strong, vibrant faith. Instead of centering on the abandonment issues and rejections in her life, she centered on the Lord, just the opposite of what Dori had done.

“What would we ever do without the Lord?”

Dori knew the answer to that question, at least as it pertained to herself. She had become bitter, resentful, and unforgiving. The new question was, what was she going to do now?

The new question stayed in the back of her mind as she continued familiarizing herself with the store and its products. Aside from the spiritual confusion—conviction?—the new question aroused, the day passed uneventfully until well after lunch. Then Gracie Wilder and Grayce Warrington came to call. When they walked into Harbor Lights, their eyes lit up immediately.

“My, my,” Gracie said in her somber way. “You have made the place look lovely.”

“Indeed you have,” Grayce agreed, her rouge circles particularly bright under the fluorescent store lights. “And just who sent you the flowers?” Her tone was sly.

Dori was most pleased with their approval of the store, and she laughed at their delight in the cyclamen.

“You’ve got to love a man who sends flowers,” Somber Gracie said. “Harold bought me a bouquet every single week for almost forty-five years.”

“What a thoughtful thing for a husband to do,” Dori said

“Oh, I never married him,” Gracie said. “I was afraid he’d stop with the flowers.”

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry at that observation, Dori smiled and said, “Are you two out without your buddy today?”

“Oh, no,” Rouged Grayce said, peering at the figurine of the little girl in the rocker reading the Bible. “Grace is parking the car. It always takes her a long time to parallel park anymore.”

Dori shuddered at the thought of Wrinkled Grace, who
looked like she could give Methuselah a run for his money, out parallel parking. She was thankful she was parked in the slot behind the store.

The two Graces looked around, handling this gift and that book until the third Grace arrived. The three gathered briefly behind the fiction shelf, and if her eyes weren’t deceiving her, Dori thought they were praying. At least their heads were bowed, and she didn’t think they were all looking at a novel on the bottom shelf.

The three turned and came toward Dori as she stood behind the counter dodging the tendrils of Phil and Maureen’s philodendron.

“Dori, dear,” Grayce said, her face paler than ever beneath the rouge circles.

One look at her face, and Dori knew something unpleasant was coming. What was it about the Warringtons? She braced herself and waited.

“Go on, Grayce, dear,” Wrinkled Grace encouraged. “It’s your job to tell.”

Dori sucked in her stomach and straightened her shoulders. Rouged Grayce straightened her shoulders too. “It’s Jonathan.”

Dori waited for more, but Grayce seemed stuck. After a minute Dori asked, “What about Jonathan?”

“He’s called a meeting.” Grayce looked stricken, and the other Graces patted her back consolingly.

“A meeting?”

“At church tonight, dear.” Somber Gracie couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Seven-thirty,” added Wrinkled Grace.

“Because he knows Pastor Paul is out of town,” Rouged Grayce finished, her neck turning scarlet with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dori said, not certain why a meeting was bad. “Jonathan has called a meeting tonight even though Trev is out if town.”

The Graces nodded. Dori looked at them blankly.

“She doesn’t understand,” Somber Gracie said.

“She’s too nice to see the skullduggery,” Wrinkled Grace said.

Dori blinked. Skullduggery?

Rouged Grayce sighed. “Jonathan wants Pastor Paul out.”

Dori frowned. Then it clicked. “Out of the chapel? He wants Trev to leave Seaside?” Dori took a deep breath. So this was Jonathan’s strategy. Wait until Trev left town, then go for his jugular. Why was she surprised? Trev had said this would happen.

The Graces nodded, expressions sad.

“I’m so sorry,” Grayce Warrington said. “He’s my son, but he’s wrong.”

Dori patted Grayce’s hand. Another parent disappointed in a child, just like Mae Harper. “It’s not your fault, Mrs. Warrington. Jonathan’s an adult who makes his own choices.”

Rouged Grayce sniffed. “That’s very kind of you, dear.”

The other Graces sniffed. “Very kind, very kind,” they agreed. “Pastor is so lucky to have you.”

“He’s my son.” Rouged Grayce said again, her head bowed. “Sometimes he shames me so.”

“No, no, Grayce,” Somber Gracie said. “Like Dori said, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not,” agreed Wrinkled Grace. “We know. We were there the whole time you were raising that mischief maker. You did everything right. He just didn’t listen.”

Grayce gave a wan smile, her clown cheeks brilliant against the pallor of her face.

“How do people know about this meeting?” Dori asked.

“Judy’s been working the phones all day,” Somber Gracie said. “As soon as Angie gets home from classes, she’ll help. That’s how they always do it.”

“But they didn’t call us,” Somber Gracie said. “They never call us anymore.”

“They know we won’t cooperate,” Wrinkled Grace said.

“Mae called me,” Rouged Grayce said. “She knew I’d want to know.”

“But how can Jonathan call a meeting just because he wants one?” Dori’s fingers beat a tattoo on the counter. “What authority does he have to do something like this?”

“He’s on the elder board,” Somber Gracie said. “He thinks that gives him the right.”

“Does it?” Dori asked.

“Oh, no. He’s not the only elder, you know.”

“They’re supposed to agree on things.” Wrinkled Grace reached in her bag and pulled out a pill bottle. She dumped out a pill and slid it under her tongue.

Dori’s eyes widened in concern, but the other Graces seemed not in the least concerned that their driver was having heart problems severe enough to require digitalis.

“I doubt he even contacted Ed Masterson, who is the chairman, and the others on the board with him, like Frank Shaw, such a fine young man.” Wrinkled Grace looked quite militant as she patted her aching friend Grayce on the back. “He knows that they’d say things need to be done decently and in order.”

“I called Ed,” Rouged Grayce said. “I can’t let Jonathan bully the congregation again.”

“He’s done this before, hasn’t he?” Dori thought of the earlier pastors that Jonathan had managed to get to resign.

Sadly Grayce nodded. “It’s his modus operandi.”

Dori came out from behind the counter. “Thank you so much for coming to me with this news.” She leaned in and kissed each of them on their withered cheeks. She gave Grayce Warrington an extra hug.

“What are you going to do?” Wrinkled Grace asked. Three pairs of expectant eyes settled on Dori.

She shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”

“We will be praying,” Somber Gracie said, patting Dori’s arm.

“And we’ll be at the meeting,” Wrinkled Grace said, squeezing Dori’s hand.

“We’ll do our best for your Trev,” Rouged Grayce said, putting her hand on Dori’s cheek. “After all, he’s our Trev too.”

The Graces left, subdued but relieved.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dori raced to the back room and grabbed the phone. She dialed the number Trev had given her when he left that morning. A recorded message kicked in telling her to dial the extension she wanted or hold for a receptionist. She held, but no receptionist answered.

“Come on, come on!” She hung up and dialed again. Same
thing. She dialed Trev’s cell phone and got his voice mail.

“Trev, Jonathan is having a meeting about you tonight. What do you want me to do?”

She hung up, knowing that Trev probably had his phone turned off for the meetings. He might not even check it for messages until much too late to do any good.

She raced across the street to Phil’s pharmacy. He took one look at her face, pulled her into his office, and closed the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s going to get them to fire Trev!”

“Who? How?”

“Jonathan Warrington at some meeting tonight. And I can’t get hold of Trev!”

“Good old Jonathan.” Phil shook his head. “Trev always said he’d be trouble some day. How did you find out?”