Arlene James - Her Small-Town Hero (Love Inspired Series)  

C ara saw that she had entered the sanctuary at the front behind the piano. Avoiding eye contact, she kept one shoulder against the wall as she walked to the nearest empty pew and sat down on the end. Holt moved past and took the seat immediately behind her. Thankful for that much distance, she somehow managed to hold on to the edge of her composure, despite the trembling in her limbs.

She didnt sing, but she smiled at the woman in front of her who passed her an open hymnal. After the song, Grover rose to speak for a moment before dismissing them to small group. Cara, fighting off panic, barely registered a word, but she soon found herself being swept back the way shed come, right into the large room they called the Fellowship Hall.

Earlier she had noticed that a shuttered window opened into a large kitchen along one side of the bland room. Of more immediate interest now, however, were the folding chairs arranged in circles of nine or ten seats. As people began filling them, Holt stepped up and lightly grasped her elbow.

Theres a mixed group forming over here.

She let him steer her to a chair and soon found herself sitting next to him and across from a couple about his age. The woman leaned forward and said a soft hello. Angevine Martin came by, giggling and squeezing Caras shoulder. Cara tried, hoped shed managed, to smile. To her surprise, Holt took charge of the group.

Any requests?

A middle-aged man, sitting with arms and legs crossed, immediately began to speak about his impending divorce. He went on for several minutes, and Cara noted the soothing, supportive comments of the others, but she felt paralyzed, apart from the group.

Perhaps it was best that way, she thought tiredly. On Sunday next, her aunts best friend would undoubtedly expose her lies and end her time in Eden.

Even in the midst of her terror, Cara tried to apply analytical logic to the situation, but the pall of doom hung so heavy over her that she could barely form coherent thoughts. Her wisest course might be simply to run, now, tonight, but the idea brought such enormous pain that the inherent fallacy of it seemed incidental. She had too little money accumulated, an undependable vehicle and not even a glimmer of a plan this time, but that all paled in comparison to her grief and disappointment. Her only option seemed to be to make that visit to Mrs. Poersel and endure whatever came of it, however terrifying.

God help me, she prayed in mechanical silence. Oh, God, please help me.

Several others around the circle voiced prayer concerns. Holt suggested that they pray silently then let him close them. Several people immediately slipped off their chairs and onto their knees, bowing their heads over the seats they had vacated. Cara followed suit and immediately felt overcome by a presence other than her own.

She began to cry out silent apologies to God, her tears flowing into the space created by her folded arms.

Im so sorry! I didnt realize how hard it would be to lie, but what can I do now? Holt will report me, and even if he doesnt, I dont want to involve anyone else in my problems. I only want to make a good home for my son. Help me! Oh, please help me! I shouldnt have done it. I just didnt know what else to do. Im so sorry. Please dont let Holt and the others hate me. At least if it all comes out, then You can forgive me, and I want that, but please, please dont take my son. Please dont let them lock me away and take my son. Oh, God, Im so sorry!

She all but forgot about the others around her, until Holt jolted her into awareness by speaking aloud. With simple, homespun eloquence, he praised God for His mercy and kindness, addressed each request, mentioned several concerns of the wider church and even touched on some national issues.

Then he broke Caras quivering heart, saying, Lord, theres a lady in Duncan, Mrs. Poersel, whos about reached the end of her road. I ask You to ease her way, and I thank You for this touchstone to Cara Janes past and pray that her visit will bring Mrs. Poersel the same measure of joy that she and Ace have brought to my grandfather and me. He went on to seek blessing for everyone in the room and their families. He asked God to use the church for His purposes and, as other voices in the background fell away, closed in the name of Jesus.

Cara hastily dried the last of her tears but kept her gaze averted as Holts hand curled beneath her elbow, lifting her to her feet. He held her back with just a squeeze of his fingers as others began to move away. Some spoke to him, and he replied in jocular kind, until the two of them stood somewhat apart from the dwindling group.

Tilting her face up with a finger pressed beneath her chin, he looked down worriedly into her eyes. Are you all right?

She rubbed her nose, trying to hold back a sniff, and put on the best smile she could muster. O-of course.

He frowned down at her, obviously not buying it. I dont know whats eating you up inside, Cara Jane, but youve got to realize by now that my family and I will do everything in our power to

You cant help me! she declared, pulling away. Realizing what shed said, she tried to cover. B-because I dont need help. Besides, the Jeffords have already been generous enough.

Mouth flattened, jaw working, he shook his head. She could see his frustration, knew he bit back words hed prefer to spew.

Im sorry, Holt, she whispered, daring no further explanation.

After a moment, he slipped an arm around her, turning toward the nursery wing. Lets get Ace and go home.

Home, she thought bleakly. But only until Sunday.

She knew that she wouldnt run. She didnt have the heart. At least not before shed seen Mrs. Poersel. After that, she didnt know what would happen, but she felt she owed that visit to her aunts old neighbor. And Holt.

Over the next three days, Cara kept as much distance between herself and Holt as possible. By mutual agreement, they decided not to repeat the mistake, in Holts words, of their previous Saturday night out together. Both stayed in, Holt whiling away the evening with Hap and Ryan, Cara watching television with Ace in their room.

Work helped distract her mind from the agreed-upon visit with Mrs. Poersel, but it did not stop Sunday from coming. Cara skipped church, saying truthfully that she hadnt slept well the night before. What was the point in going when doom hung like a pall over everything and confession remained impossible?

All too soon, she found herself riding in Holts big truck, Ace happily babbling to himself in the rear seat, as the miles fell away and her secret dread built. With no comfort to be found from any other source, Cara prayed in silence almost incessantly during that long drive, but as the truck turned off of 81 onto Bois DArc Avenue on the south side of Duncan, she lost the concentration required even for that. Morbid curiosity and desperate longing mingled with her dread as they made the familiar right onto 10th Street.

They crossed Highway 7 and drove past West Stephens Avenue. Much remained the same, but a new brick house had replaced the old Downing home. She marked another notable change as they passed West Duncan. The hues were different. Once all the houses had been painted basic white. Now there were subtle shades of tan, gray and gold in the mix and even a smattering of more vibrant hues.

Holt parked the truck in front of Aunt Janes house. Cara stared for long seconds at the dark, ugly door and cold concrete slab that had replaced the front porch. She much preferred the old wood porch and the door with the big window in it. The drab gray paint of the siding seemed to reflect her mood and confirm that this was not the same place she had known.

Saddened not to feel the tug of home, Cara opened the truck door and slid out. Oddly, despite the obvious changes, Mrs. Poersels house seemed as familiar and solid as Caras memories. Preoccupied, she didnt even realize that Holt had taken Ace from his car seat until they joined her.