скачать книгу бесплатно
She jumped when she heard Brooke’s voice. Her niece had sneaked up on her again. “I thought I’d go to church with you this morning,” Kate said.
Why had she said that? She hadn’t been to church for years and hadn’t even considered it until the words emerged from her mouth. Maybe the fact was that she didn’t go to church in New York or Houston or Miami but she did in Silver Lake. Well, attending the service probably wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, it would be nice to see the people who’d been so nice, who’d brought food, and to accept Mrs. Oglesby’s invitation.
“We don’t go to church,” Brooke said, her voice muffled as she stuck her head in the refrigerator.
When Brooke straightened and pulled out a jar of jelly, Kate asked, “You don’t go to church? We always went to church when I lived here.”
Brooke could have said, “You haven’t lived here for a long time,” but she didn’t. Instead she twisted the tie off a loaf of bread, took out a slice, put it in the toaster and pushed the lever down. Any observer would’ve thought the silver surface covered the most fascinating invention in the universe from the way the child contemplated it.
“Well,” Kate asked the back of Brooke’s head, “do you want to come with me?”
Brooke turned and stared at her aunt with those somber eyes, looking older and sadder than any nine-year-old should be. Of course, Kate hadn’t been acquainted with many nine-year-olds since she helped with the junior fellowship at church when she was in high school. None of those kids had ever gazed at her like this, their expression full of sorrow.
“Okay,” Brooke mumbled before the toast popped up and she grabbed it.
Still a little surprised by her decision to go to church, Kate decided to skip Sunday school and eat a leisurely breakfast, occasionally dropping a tidbit for Coco. As she read the paper, she noticed that Brooke would glance at her aunt, then surreptitiously drop a small piece of toast to the dog.
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 gotten up at five-thirty that morning to dress and grab a cup of coffee before she awakened Brooke. While Brooke ate, Kate took Coco outside, found a tree with plenty of shade and settled the dog there with a bowl of water and a blanket.
That accomplished, Kate dashed into the house and glanced at the clock. It had been almost six-fifteen. The doctor wanted Abby at the hospital by seven.
Now sitting in the surgery waiting room while Abby was being prepped, Kate began a gradual collapse. She was not a morning person—5:00 a.m. was the earliest she had been up for years, and certainly not since she was a hot new reporter for the morning report on a Houston television station.
As she began to doze, through the fog she heard the approach of footsteps. When they stopped in front of her, she opened her right eye a slit to see Reverend Moreno. With a start, she jumped to her feet and reached out her hand. “Good morning, Reverend. How nice to see you.”
He took her hand and shook it. “And a surprise I believe from your expression.” His English held a slight Spanish accent and an interesting rhythm, almost like a song. “I come to the hospital anytime a member of the congregation is admitted.” He let go of her hand. “Please sit down.”
When she did, he sat next to her.
“Is Abby still a member of the church?” she asked. “From what Brooke said, they don’t attend regularly.”
“No, they don’t, but they are members and may return to us.” He smiled. “After all, we must never give up on the leading of the Holy Spirit.”
Kate nodded and struggled not to yawn.
“You must be tired.”
“I’ve had a busy few days, and I don’t like getting up early.”
“And yet you came to church yesterday. Everyone was glad to see you.” He nodded in a very pastoral manner. “I hope you’ll come again.” Reverend Moreno stood. “Do you want to come with me while I pray with your sister?”
“No, but thank you.”
As the minister headed toward preop, Kate wondered why she hadn’t gone with him. Praying with her sister might open something up between them. That would be good. However, it could also toss up another wall between them if Abby felt Kate had intruded on her private space. Hard to guess Abby’s reaction but more likely the latter.
After several cups of coffee, a couple of walks around the small hospital, reading every page of the Austin newspaper and an ancient People magazine and watching the morning news, a woman dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the operating suite.
“Miss Wallace?” she called after glancing down at a chart she held.
Kate stood. “I’m Kate Wallace.”
“I’m Dr. Norris. Your sister did fine. The operation should resolve the problem.”
“Good.”
“She’s in recovery now. If you’d like to go to room…” The doctor consulted the chart. “Five-eleven. She’ll be there in a short time.”
“Five-eleven,” she repeated. “Thank you.”
Leaving the waiting room, Kate headed toward the patient wing. Once she found the room, she settled into the reclining chair and, again, closed her eyes.
Abby would be in the hospital for a day or two, then they’d release her to Kate’s care for a convalescence lasting four to six weeks.
If they both survived that long.
There she went again, always thinking about herself. The convalescence would be harder on Abby than on her. Her sister would be in pain. Even worse, she’d have to accept the help from—in fact be completely dependent on—Kate, the sister she’d never particularly liked. Because the entire situation would be difficult for Abby, Kate should—would—have to be nice. Try to be nice. Force herself to be nice.
She’d always worked with the public and, over the years, had developed a method of dealing with difficult, demanding people. But this was her sister, the woman who knew every one of Kate’s hot buttons and loved to push them.
However, this older Kate Wallace knew how to deflect those barbs better than she had as a child. Besides, she really wanted to get along with her sister.
How far would good intentions take her? She closed her eyes and sighed. The four-to-six week thing began to sound longer and longer.
“Excuse me.” An orderly entered. “We need you to leave until we have the patient settled.”
After she stood and left the room, two orderlies wheeled in a gurney with Abby on it and a nurse followed.
In the hall, Kate paced up and down for a few minutes before she saw Rob emerging from the gift shop with a bouquet of yellow roses.
For a moment, she stopped and watched him, the determined gait, broad shoulders covered by a blue knit shirt and the confident lift of his head. Wow. Rob was gorgeous. A real man, he’d draw the interest of any woman in Houston or Miami. Here his good looks and self-assurance filled the narrow corridor with potent and very masculine appeal.
“How’s the patient?” he asked before he glanced at a note in his hand. “She’s in room five-eleven?”
As she fell in step beside him, Kate forced her senses from her sudden and unwelcome interest in Rob and her brain back to her sister’s health. “The doctor says she’s doing well.”
“But?” He glanced at the closed door then back at Kate.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. She just got out of recovery and they’re getting her settled.” In a flash, the enormity of what lay ahead, weeks of taking care of Abby, overwhelmed her. She leaned on the wall and took a deep breath.
“Worried?”
She glanced into eyes that showed concern. “I thought I knew what I was getting into, but, Rob, I’ve never been a good nurse and Abby and I’ve never gotten along. What if I can’t do this?”
“Hey, you’ll be fine.” He studied her face. “I know how determined you can be. Once you start something, you don’t give up.”
She attempted a smile. “That’s not always true.”
“Often enough,” he added in a voice filled with certainty. “Kate, you can.”
“I hope so.”
He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I saw you in church Sunday. I didn’t get to greet you because I had to pick Lora up from children’s church.”
“I saw you.”
“Kate, I don’t know if you still pray like you did as a kid.” He reached out to touch her arm but it seemed as soon as he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand. “If you don’t think you can handle things, pray about them. There’s a source of strength outside of us. You used to know that.” His gaze stayed on her face. “I don’t know if you do anymore, but you did. He’s still there.”
“I’m really out of practice.”
“‘Whisper a prayer in the morning,’” Rob sang softly.
