Read Online Hearts Crossing (Woodland) by Marianne Evans - Free Book Online
Authors: Marianne Evans
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Jeremy elaborated needlessly, since the aroma of grilling hot dogs and hamburgers permeated the air. “C'mon. Let's eat. I'm starved.”
“Like that's news?” Marty quipped, though he dumped his work supplies and stood to stretch.
But Collin remained lost to his thoughts, watching Sandy and Daveny as Pastor Ken took his leave from the freshly completed pond area. And a memory took hold.
“It's almost finished now, and I'm so excited! It's being called Parishioner's Bridge.” Daveny lingered over dessert and coffee after the dinner following the class presentation. She took delight in the idea. “Everyone seems to have taken to the idea we have of the bridge being a physical testimony to the impact of those who worship at Woodland, past and present, which is everything I had hoped for when we came up with the idea for it.”
Hope. God. Her belief in both lit Daveny from the inside out. Collin wondered, not for the first time since being in her company, what it would feel like to once again capture that kind of conviction for himself. Out of habit, he shook off the silky promise of that idea.
Instead, he stood and made his way to the area of the grounds where a barbecue was underway and attracting volunteers in droves. Tables were set up and stocked with things like fruit salad, veggies and dip, cookies and chips.
He needed to clean up before eating, though. He turned back and followed a group of people inside to wash up. He blew out a puff of air, rolling his shoulders, a sense of internal pressure on the rise. It was time for him to explain—everything—to Daveny. Circumstances seemed to be converging on him all at once and needed to be dealt with: the advent of a lovely, wonderful woman in his life; Sandy's return to Detroit; Woodland's renovation and all of its emotional ties to Lance; and, by far, the worst moment of Collin's life.
Once in the main building, the entrance to the church itself caused him to pause. The double wooden doors were open, as if in welcome or perhaps a predestined invitation.
Since all the activity was happening outside, the church proper was empty and dimly illuminated. Backlit by the afternoon sun, the rich hues of the stained glass glowed, casting patterns on the dark gray carpeting.
Collin walked inside without being fully conscious of it until he started to tremble. The nearer he got to the altar, the more his knees threatened to weaken and give way. He made it about halfway down the rows of pews before figuring he'd come close enough.
He slid into place and sat, looking around. So much was the same. To welcome summer, flowers adorned the altar, lending a subtle scent to the air. The colorful bouquets lent a contrast of vibrant color to the simple white walls.
“Collin. How are you?”
Collin closed his eyes and drew a fortifying breath. Despite years of distance, he knew that voice.
“Hi, Pastor Ken.”
“I'll leave you to prayer or meditation if you'd like.”
Pastor Ken started to turn, but before doing so he gave Collin a welcoming smile. He offered nothing beyond that simple greeting.
Therefore, Collin could only assume he had picked up on the underlying current of disquiet in his salutation. That made Collin feel bad. After all, his problems weren't Pastor Ken's fault. “I don't mind. How...ah...how are you?”
“I'm well. Excited about the improvements, obviously.”
Pastor Ken's smile was as warm and compelling as ever. The church leader had been a tremendous source of support to Collin's family at the time of Lance's death, onward to this day—but Collin had stepped away. He had seen no other path to take. What would this man of God make of that?
The wooden pew creaked comfortably when Pastor Ken sat next to him. Black attire, white collar, kind, inquiring eyes—everything about him spoke of approachability and kindness. “I’ll be glad when the project is finished. Being in limbo is never fun.”
“Yeah. I can imagine.” Awkwardness skittered
“Like that's news?” Marty quipped, though he dumped his work supplies and stood to stretch.
But Collin remained lost to his thoughts, watching Sandy and Daveny as Pastor Ken took his leave from the freshly completed pond area. And a memory took hold.
“It's almost finished now, and I'm so excited! It's being called Parishioner's Bridge.” Daveny lingered over dessert and coffee after the dinner following the class presentation. She took delight in the idea. “Everyone seems to have taken to the idea we have of the bridge being a physical testimony to the impact of those who worship at Woodland, past and present, which is everything I had hoped for when we came up with the idea for it.”
Hope. God. Her belief in both lit Daveny from the inside out. Collin wondered, not for the first time since being in her company, what it would feel like to once again capture that kind of conviction for himself. Out of habit, he shook off the silky promise of that idea.
Instead, he stood and made his way to the area of the grounds where a barbecue was underway and attracting volunteers in droves. Tables were set up and stocked with things like fruit salad, veggies and dip, cookies and chips.
He needed to clean up before eating, though. He turned back and followed a group of people inside to wash up. He blew out a puff of air, rolling his shoulders, a sense of internal pressure on the rise. It was time for him to explain—everything—to Daveny. Circumstances seemed to be converging on him all at once and needed to be dealt with: the advent of a lovely, wonderful woman in his life; Sandy's return to Detroit; Woodland's renovation and all of its emotional ties to Lance; and, by far, the worst moment of Collin's life.
Once in the main building, the entrance to the church itself caused him to pause. The double wooden doors were open, as if in welcome or perhaps a predestined invitation.
Since all the activity was happening outside, the church proper was empty and dimly illuminated. Backlit by the afternoon sun, the rich hues of the stained glass glowed, casting patterns on the dark gray carpeting.
Collin walked inside without being fully conscious of it until he started to tremble. The nearer he got to the altar, the more his knees threatened to weaken and give way. He made it about halfway down the rows of pews before figuring he'd come close enough.
He slid into place and sat, looking around. So much was the same. To welcome summer, flowers adorned the altar, lending a subtle scent to the air. The colorful bouquets lent a contrast of vibrant color to the simple white walls.
“Collin. How are you?”
Collin closed his eyes and drew a fortifying breath. Despite years of distance, he knew that voice.
“Hi, Pastor Ken.”
“I'll leave you to prayer or meditation if you'd like.”
Pastor Ken started to turn, but before doing so he gave Collin a welcoming smile. He offered nothing beyond that simple greeting.
Therefore, Collin could only assume he had picked up on the underlying current of disquiet in his salutation. That made Collin feel bad. After all, his problems weren't Pastor Ken's fault. “I don't mind. How...ah...how are you?”
“I'm well. Excited about the improvements, obviously.”
Pastor Ken's smile was as warm and compelling as ever. The church leader had been a tremendous source of support to Collin's family at the time of Lance's death, onward to this day—but Collin had stepped away. He had seen no other path to take. What would this man of God make of that?
The wooden pew creaked comfortably when Pastor Ken sat next to him. Black attire, white collar, kind, inquiring eyes—everything about him spoke of approachability and kindness. “I’ll be glad when the project is finished. Being in limbo is never fun.”
“Yeah. I can imagine.” Awkwardness skittered
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