By ten-thirty, Kate had showered and dressed in a nice pair of taupe slacks and an ecru silk shirt she hoped would be acceptable for church in Silver Lake. She hadn’t brought a dress with her—she hadn’t planned to go anyplace that needed one.
By ten-thirty, she was also running late. She left Coco sleeping on her bed, grabbed her purse and ran outside to the front porch where Brooke waited. “Do you want to walk or ride?”
Brooke didn’t say a word, just looked in the direction of Kate’s car with a raised eyebrow. The silent response was obvious. She wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing.
“Okay, let’s walk.”
It wasn’t far. As children, they’d made the trip in less than five minutes, but today Kate wore sandals with two-inch heels and was accompanied by a less than enthusiastic companion. Even with all that, they arrived five minutes before the service started.
With each step, she could see more of Bethany Church. She’d always thought it was a lovely building and had compared it favorably to every church she attended before she stopped going completely five years earlier.
At the end of the first block, the tall wooden cross on top of a roof shingled with black slate punched through the treetops. She kept her eye on it and the few cars on the street as she encouraged Brooke to keep up with her.
When they crossed the street Kate saw a woman coming toward them, a woman who glowered at Kate as if she were the lowest form of life in the universe.
Kate forced herself to smile into the frown of Sandra Dolinski. “Hello, Sandra. How are you?”
Sandra didn’t answer, only stared a few more seconds before she turned and strode away as Kate watched.
Although yearning to say something to that straight, judgmental back, Kate bit her lip. She’d hoped her long absence had washed away any resentment about how high and mighty Kate Wallace had been back then.
Guess not.
“Who was that?” Brooke asked. “Why was she so mean?”
“I wasn’t always nice when I was in high school.” Kate headed toward the church again, not wanting to explain that Sandra’s was one of the boyfriends she’d stolen. She had to apologize to her someday.
After the confrontation with Sandra, Kate really did worry about her reception at church. Would there be others there who remembered the old, petty, conceited Kate? Who would like to get back at her?
She pushed the thoughts aside and kept walking. She could hardly turn around and go back home now, not when she’d talked Brooke into coming, not when it meant giving in to Sandra’s anger.
When they were half a block from the church, the windows of the youth and children’s Sunday school department peeked through the leaves. Cars turned off the street and into the parking lots or pulled up to park against the curb.
Next, the beautiful stained-glass window of Jesus praying in the garden appeared through a break in the branches.
Finally, as they turned onto the broad sidewalk in the front of the building, she saw the strength and beauty of the church. Built of pale gray limestone quarried from the hills in the area, it looked as if it would stand for eternity. As she entered the front doors, she was struck by a deep yearning for the faith that used to sustain her. Even stronger was regret that she’d lost the assurance of that faith over the past few years in the shuffle of her life, under the layers of what she’d thought was more important.
They were late enough that most of the congregation had settled in the sanctuary except the few who straggled in from the street with her. Through the open doors between the sanctuary and the greeting area, she heard the organist playing the prelude and a low buzz of conversation. No one had ever learned that the prelude was supposed to be a time of quiet meditation, not a meet-and-greet session. Another thing that hadn’t changed in Silver Lake over the years.
She took three more steps until she stood barely inside the sanctuary. A woman she didn’t know handed her an order of worship and Brooke tugged at her hand to pull her down the aisle. Oddly the child headed toward an empty pew while Kate, afraid there were more like Sandra Dolinski inside, wanted to whirl around and run.
Who was she fooling by coming to church after so many years? Certainly not God.
Why was she here? Although she knew most of the people inside would welcome her, she feared the judgment and gossip that might greet her after her time away.
Many years earlier she would have prayed for strength from God, but they weren’t on that good of terms anymore. All her fault, she knew.
The irony that today she needed strength from God before entering His house was not lost on her.
“Come on, Aunt Kate,” Brooke whispered loudly enough for everyone inside to turn around and watch them.
She took a deep breath and followed Brooke toward a pew a few rows behind Rob and his mother and across from Mrs. Oglesby.
“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered. “What am I doing here?” And yet, as the service began, the music filled and lifted her; the beauty and truth of the scripture inspired her; and the sermon both challenged and comforted her.
After the service, people gathered around her, people who greeted her and were glad to see her. A lovely surprise.
“So nice to have you home,” her grade-school principal said. “We’re proud how you stood up against that crooked congressman.”
“Takes a lot of courage to do that,” Mrs. Watkins, her high school journalism teacher said, and patted her on the shoulder. “Good job.”
Mrs. Watkins had what was called “big Texas hair.” So blond it was almost white, it puffed from her head like a giant dandelion-gone-to-seed, but a very nicely colored and well-coiffed dandelion-gone-to-seed. Like other women with “big Texas hair” she had flawless makeup and her fingers, ears and neck—every square inch possible—glittered with jewelry.
“Thank you.” She’d always loved this teacher. Mrs. Watkins’s enthusiasm and knowledge had been her motivation for getting a degree in journalism.
Grabbing Kate’s hand with her beautifully kept fingers, Mrs. Watkins said, “If you’re looking for something to keep you busy while you’re here, I’ve got a part-time job at the Sentinel. I’m editor there now.”
“You are? Congratulations.” But before she could tell her she was not interested in a job, people surrounded them, chatting.
After more greetings and pats on the back, Kate knew why she was in this place, in Bethany Church.
“Thank you, God,” she whispered as she left with Brooke. “Thank you for bringing me home.” Even if the methods God used seemed circumspect and the road home bumpy, she was grateful. It felt good to be here, to be welcome. To belong.
Now all she had to do was to persuade Sandra Dolinski and her sister to forgive and accept her, too.
Without a lot of guidance and grace from God, there was little chance of that.
Chapter Three
Kate hated hospitals.
Not that she’d ever spent the night in one. She’d spent only a few minutes several times cheering up sick friends.
And not that everyone else in the world loved hospitals. Other than the staff, probably no one even liked hospitals. She guessed every patient tucked into pristine cubicles wished they were someplace else.
In the waiting room, Kate leaned back in a metal chair with a thin cushion upholstered in sticky plastic. Yawning, she shifted in an attempt to find a comfortable place, but a comfortable position didn’t exist.
She’d