Seascapes Read online

  The Grants had shown him how much fun it was to have lots of kids to love. He wanted lots of his own one day. One day, when he found the right woman, if he ever did. He knew he needed to trust God to bring just the right person into his life, but sometimes he wasn’t sure it was ever going to happen.

  He was starting to get to the point where he was feeling his age. He was looking thirty square in the face, and he didn’t always like what he saw. The lack of a wife and children was one of the things he was beginning to feel a tug about. A big tug.

  He continued his walk toward home as he cooled down from his run. Well, being honest with himself he hadn’t walked directly home because he had stopped at the Three Cat Café to get a cup of coffee. Fine, and a cinnamon roll. It was worth every mile he ran to sink his teeth into the yummy goodness of the pastry. They baked them every Wednesday and he was usually one of the first in line after they opened to snag one. Alright, maybe two.

  He tore off a bite of his roll and almost groaned out loud at the taste. It was delicious. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Then he quickly glanced around to be sure no one had seen him. His parents had certainly taught him better manners than he was currently displaying.

  His parents. He knew how blessed he had been to land on the Grant’s doorstep. His social worker had warned him if he didn’t straighten up and fit into this family, that was it. He would be heading to a halfway house instead.

  The last guy had tried, Drew gave him credit for that. He certainly hadn’t made it easy for him either. Drew had done everything he could to sabotage every family placement he had been put in. He was a stubborn kid who just wanted to go home. But home wasn’t an option anymore.

  Then he had met the Grants and realized home could be a place where you were loved when you couldn’t go back to where you had started. They had loved him so hard and relentlessly that he didn’t have any more excuses. He had finally let down his walls and allowed himself to feel wanted once more. He had become part of a family again, something he never thought would happen.

  Taking another bite of his second cinnamon roll, he shook off the thoughts of the past. He tried not to think about the years before he became a Grant. They were too painful. He didn’t want to let those memories disrupt his day.

  Sipping on his cooling coffee, he decided to head to the church before he went home. Peter would probably be there. He could check to see if there was anything he could help him with.

  The small church had no budget for a maintenance or janitorial crew. It was just Peter. The deacons and elders were almost as ancient as Mrs. Johnson. Drew had started helping out long before Peter arrived and continued to do so. He had the skills and enjoyed working with his hands.

  His small handyman business allowed him the freedom of a flexible schedule. It also allowed him to help the church when they needed it.

  Sure enough, he saw lights on in the office. Peter was already there. He was either working on his sermon for the week or planning out his next stage of attack to win over Mrs. Johnson and the rest of the Pastor Dan contingent at church.

  Drew eased open the door to the hallway just outside Peter’s office. He shut the door quietly and tiptoed towards his brother’s office thinking of a way to surprise him. He stopped short, however, when he heard voices coming from behind the slightly opened door.

  Drew glanced at his watch. It was just after seven in the morning, but he would know that voice anywhere. Mrs. Johnson was here meeting with his brother, and it sounded like they had already been at it for a while.

  “Now, as to the song selections, I think that is the next important thing to address. None of this modern racket. Just an organ or a piano or perhaps both. No other instruments are needed.”

  She let out a loud sniff before she continued with laying out her edicts for Peter. “Good old-fashioned hymns are what we have always sung. That is what we should continue to do. I would be happy to pick out the songs each week. I’m sure that will make things easier.”

  He risked a peek around the door. Sure enough, Peter had a harried look about him. He had his fists clenched on top of the desk. He was probably trying not to strangle old Mrs. Johnson.

  Peter looked up and caught sight of Drew craning his neck around the door. He arched an eyebrow. Drew shot him a look and shook his head. No way was he going in there and facing Mrs. Johnson in his shorts and sweatshirt. Even he wasn’t that brave.

  Smiling at his brother, he shook his head firmly in the negative and backed away. He would go sit in the sanctuary and wait there.

  “Young man, are you listening to me?”

  Drew’s shoulders shook as he contained his laughter. Mrs. Johnson was in rare form this morning. He grinned as he devoured another bite of his third cinnamon roll. The mileage on his run this morning was worth the extra pastries. He settled into a pew to wait for his brother. Poor Peter.

  Chapter 6

  Kate was sitting at her desk at the store going over invoices. She enjoyed the bookwork needed to run her business. It was orderly. She liked order. It was logical. There was a start and a finish to it, a quiet peace once all the pieces fit.

  Summer always seemed to arrive fast, so she needed to make sure they had plenty of products on hand. She made a note to contact the local artisans and ensure they would be able to fill orders. She would also need to renew contracts with those who would be returning.

  She was on autopilot. Her thoughts were completely focused on the business at hand. She didn’t want to think about anything other than making Seascapes successful for another year. She shoved thoughts of the past to the back of her mind. She didn’t want to feel the pain again. Not now.

  Fiona walked briskly in through the back door. “Hey! How are you doing today?” Concern was laced through her voice as she handed Kate a cup of coffee.

  “I’m fine, Fee. Let’s just focus on what we need to get done today.” Kate sipped her coffee and turned the conversation immediately to store matters. “Do you think we have enough sea glass for the start of the summer? Do you think you’ll have time to get some pieces made today?” Kate’s questions were a rapid-fire redirection. She refused to continue talking about her feelings.

  “Kate, I think you’re going to have to talk about this more at some point. You can’t hide from the fact a necklace from your past showed up at your store, out of the blue, hand-delivered even! Don’t you find it strange?”

  Kate shot Fiona a withering glance. “I’m not doing this right now, Fee. I’m just not.” Standing up she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Hey! Don’t leave angry. Let me help!”

  Kate bolted for the door. While she could hear the concern and confusion in her friend’s voice, she didn’t want to explain anything right now. She just wanted to leave.

  It had been years since Kate had become this angry this fast. Normally she was a calm person, but when she was younger, it seemed she could go from calm to boiling mad in an instant. She could feel the white-hot rage pulsing through her veins as the adrenaline began to hit her limbs and the shaking began.

  “Kate! You can’t just run off,” Fiona chased after her. “You need to talk about this. We need to figure this all out! What could it mean?”

  Whirling around, Kate’s voice began to rise as she felt the tentative hold she had on her emotions breaking. “Don’t you get it? I don’t care! My past is just that, past. It doesn’t affect me here and now. I won’t let it!” She grabbed her purse from the bench near the door and stormed out.

  Fiona watched her friend slam the door behind her. She had never known Kate to lose her cool like that before. There was more to this story about her mother’s necklace. Fee just hoped Kate would allow her to help figure it out before it tore her friend apart.

  ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

  Feet pounding on the sidewalk, Kate headed down the street. She didn’t care where she was going, she just knew she needed to get away. She needed to calm
down. She hated when she lost her temper. She always felt so out of control when it happened and being in control was where she was most comfortable. It was where she felt most safe.

  Being in control was how she managed to stay alive as a child. Being in control was how she worked full-time and went to high school, completing the college prep honors program, and graduating valedictorian. Being in control was how she graduated from college with a degree in business management and saved the money needed to start her store. Being in control was how she ended up where she was today. Being in control worked.

  She wasn’t about to give it up just so her father could appease his conscience or pay off his latest gambling debt. If it was even him who had delivered the necklace. It couldn’t be him, but who else could it be? She hadn’t told him where she was going when she had left. He wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble to find her. Would he?

  Kate looked up and noticed an old stone church tucked away on the corner just up ahead. She altered her course and headed towards it. She had never noticed it before, but it was almost hidden behind a line of trees off Main Street.

  It was in the opposite direction from where she lived. She really hadn’t taken a lot of time to just explore the town, other than the beach and boardwalk near where she lived. Staying in control also meant keeping reliable patterns to her days, and not seeking out new adventures.

  As she walked closer to the quaint church, she thought maybe she could find some much needed quiet inside to just sit and pull herself together. She walked up the steps and tugged at the door. She assumed it would be locked, but to her surprise the door opened smoothly without even a squeak.

  Pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust after the brightness of the outside, she looked around. She found herself in a small atrium with double doors propped open in front of her leading into the sanctuary.

  To her right was a tight spiral staircase leading upward. A thick rope was hanging beside it. Stepping forward, she peered up and saw a bell. She smiled at the sight of it. Every church should have a bell like this, she thought to herself.

  As she continued forward through the doors into the sanctuary, she saw it was filled with rows of hard-backed pews. They at least had padded cushions on the seats. A slight upgrade made in the last fifty years, no doubt.

  There was no center aisle. Instead, there was one to the left and one to the right, with a set of pews running right down the middle. Flanking each aisle was a smaller section of pews on either side. Beautiful stained-glass windows ran down each outside wall of the church. There were eight total, four on each side.

  Kate walked slowly down the left side of the church gazing at the windows, studying each intently. The artistry was breathtaking. She had a vague knowledge of the Bible stories they depicted.

  When she was little, after things had gone sideways with her parents, she had lived with a foster family. They had taken her to church with them. They had spent quite a bit of time at church, going every Sunday morning for Sunday school and church, every Sunday evening, and every Wednesday evening. She hadn’t minded going with them at the time, yet it had been years since she had last stepped foot in a church.

  There was a window showing the story of the birth of Jesus. It showed a picture of the baby in a manger with Mary and Joseph huddled over him and angels in the distant sky.

  The next window showed a shepherd standing in a field with a lamb wrapped around his shoulders. The rest of the flock was on a hill behind them. The small plaque attached beneath the photo simply said, “The Ninety-Nine.”

  “Can I help you?”

  Kate gasped and whirled. Seated at the back of the church on the opposite side from her was a man. He was holding a cup of coffee and was dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt. She hadn’t noticed him when she arrived intent as she had been on the windows.

  “I’m sorry! I just needed a quiet place to think. The door was open. I just thought…” Kate’s voice trailed off as she stammered and stuttered her reply. She felt a slight flush of embarrassment coming over her checks. “I’ll just leave.”

  Rising he came towards her. “No, please stay. It’s not a problem. The church is always left open during the day. Sit down.” He gestured to a pew. “Let me just go see if my brother is available. I’m assuming you want to speak with him?” Without waiting for Kate’s reply, he turned and hurried through a door near the front.

  Kate slid into a pew next to the shepherd window. She gazed up at it and quietly did some of her deep breathing exercises. A feeling of peace slowly began to come over her. Looking at all the details depicted in the window, she was reminded of the calm she used to feel while sitting in church with her foster family.

  She heard the door open and a different man walked through. This one was shorter than the first, and as dark as the other had been light. He was dressed casually in a button-down shirt and khaki pants.

  “Hello, I’m Pastor Peter. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m sorry. I just needed a moment. Your church is beautiful. These windows are gorgeous.”

  Nodding towards the window she was sitting beside, he asked, “Do you know the story?”

  Kate shook her head. She was hoping he wouldn’t stay long. She just needed a few more moments alone to get back under control. She knew she would need to go back to the store and make amends with Fiona. She had never lost her temper with her before. Poor Fee had looked a little shell-shocked when Kate bolted.

  He began to speak quietly and gently, sensing Kate’s mood and need for peace. “Jesus used stories to teach. Many people couldn’t read or write, and paper was a valuable commodity as the process to create it was a bit more involved back then. Stories were shared by mouth. Instead of sitting around and watching television, people would gather and share stories.”

  Kate had never thought of that before. She looked back at the window and began to wonder what it would have been like to live in a time when paper was scarce. She had shelves of journals. It was one way she had learned to cope with her emotions, by spilling them onto paper.

  The man continued, “This particular story was about a shepherd. There were a lot of shepherds in those days so many people could easily relate. That’s why Jesus shared stories like this. They always held some truth to them, something he was trying to teach the people. However, if he just shared the truth, many more would have rejected him immediately.”

  Kate wished he would finish up, but she didn’t want to be rude. She just wanted to sit and think, not listen. She tried to mentally encourage him to hurry up, but he continued at the same steady pace.

  “The shepherd in our story had one hundred sheep. It was his job to keep them safe from predators. He kept a close eye on them and would count them every morning and evening to be sure they were all gathered close. His entire livelihood was tied up in his flock. They would feed his family and make sure they had everything they needed. It was his savings account.”

  Kate wondered how smelly sheep were in real life. She was pretty sure she preferred her money in the bank. Easier to control and less odor. Sheep had to stink, didn’t they? She turned her attention back to the man.

  “One day when he was counting, he found he only had ninety-nine sheep. He was missing one. He quickly began searching. He was frantic to find the one lost sheep. He called, knowing if it could hear his voice, it would come to him.

  “Some would scoff that it would be foolish to leave the remaining ninety-nine sheep to go look for just one. Why bother? He had so many others, what was the life of this one sheep? Yet he continued to look. He loved all his sheep. They were all precious to him.”

  He stopped and looked up at the stained-glass window and Kate’s eyes followed. A soft smile came to his lips. Kate had a vague sense of deja vu, as if she had heard this very man tell this story to her before. Shaking her head slightly at the nonsense of the thought, she looked back at him as he continued.

  “After much searching, he found his lost sheep. He placed the
sheep on his shoulders around his neck, just like the window shows, and returned to his flock. He even went back to his neighbors and friends and invited them to come celebrate with him. He was so overjoyed to have found his lost sheep.”

  Kate wondered if anyone would ever look for her like that. She had always lived her life not relying on anybody. She wasn’t sure anyone would even notice if she went missing. Well, maybe Fiona, but certainly no one else.

  But someone had found her, she thought to herself as she remembered the mysterious package left at the shop door. Who had taken the time to search for her? And why leave the necklace? Why hadn’t they just come in the store?

  She pulled her thoughts under control. It wasn’t going to help. There was no use dwelling on the past and trying to figure it out. It didn’t change the fact the necklace was there, and she was no closer to figuring out who had left it.

  “Jesus used this story to show much He loves us and values us. Each person is just as important to Him as the next. He doesn’t have favorites. He loves all of His children equally and will pursue each one just as the shepherd did his lost sheep.”

  The man stopped talking again. Kate sat in the silence, beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable as it lengthened.

  Clearing his throat, he rose. “I can see you have a lot on your mind. Please, feel free to sit and pray and just enjoy the church. I’ll be straightening things up out back. If you need anything, just ask.”

  Chapter 7

  Kate watched in amazement as the man suddenly stood and headed back out the door he had entered through. She had been sure he was going to start preaching at her once he finished his story. She wasn’t sure how she would have reacted. After all, it was obvious God had turned his back to her. What kind of God let a child die like her sister had anyway? What kind of God would permit the suffering she had experienced as a child?