“No, but I’m about to knit your lips together. We’re studying the book of Revelation, and you’re welcome to join us if you dare.”
When the room cleared, Caleb stepped out onto the back street sidewalk, turned at the corner, and ambled toward the inn’s main entrance. Pastor Chamberlain stood there, chatting with a woman the age of the Knitting for Jesus group.
When she left, the pastor approached Caleb. “Thanks for hosting. Have you decided to stick around and run the inn?”
Caleb blew out a breath. “It’s hard to decide between a family obligation and a career I love.”
“You don’t love innkeeping, do you?”
“Nope. But I loved seeing Granddad walk from his seat to the wheelchair alone after the service.”
“With Ariel encouraging him.”
“Right.” Honestly, that woman could make any man think he could climb mountains, conquer an enemy, do the impossible.Even when the man was almost seventy years old. “How did you know you were called to ministry? Because I’m stuck here right now, living between two careers. I’ve prayed until I’m prayed out, but I don’t know which path to take—my band or the inn.”
“It took me a while. Sometimes the Lord speaks through circumstances, sometimes through another person, sometimes through the Word. Other times, He speaks to our hearts and we simply know what to do.” He sighed and gazed up at the church’s blue-tarped roof. “Mostly, I think He puts in us a strong desire and the skills to carry out our calling.”
“If that’s the case, then I need to head back to LA and my band today. Because I’m failing here.”
“Failing how? You have some full rooms. You’re hosting the two biggest stars in Nashville, and you just provided a place of worship for fifty people on the spur of the moment. Plus you led worship well. What else do you want?”
Well, when he put it that way…
“Crickets chirped in this place before you got here. Give it to the Lord. When it belongs totally to Him, He’ll do with it what He wants. Keep listening for the Lord, and wait on Him.” Pastor Arnie started for the church then looked back. “You’ll get your answer when you least expect it.”
When the preacher walked on, Caleb strode to a grassy area along a back wall, where a few antique bricks lay discarded from an old, torn-down porch. He picked up a brick, then stood back and examined the structure he both loved and resented. Raised the brick to the heavens.
“Lord, this old brick used to help hold up this heap of a hotel,” he whispered. “Now I’m holding it up to You.”
He set the brick back on the pile. Then he reached in his pants pocket, pulled out a guitar pick, and pitched it on the ground. “I’m giving this to You too. Take the brick, take the inn.Take the pick, take the band. Do what you want with them both. With me.”
Until then, he’d do whatever his hands found to do.
And wait.
It was time to have a talk with Aunt Dahlia about the two men in their lives.
Heading for her family farm for the Sullivan family’s Sunday dinner, Ariel and Aunt Dahlia rode rented livery horses on the state park’s wide trail.
The path didn’t feel familiar anymore, although the park bordered the farm where Ariel would have grown up, if not for Mama and Aunt Dahlia deciding a different course for her life.
Strangely, she had no sense of coming home. Mama and Daddy came to some of her Midwest concerts. But her brother and sister felt more like beloved strangers than siblings, and the disconnect sometimes turned things awkward during their visits.
And Sam. Poor, angry Sam. Maybe her little gift of Jonathon Island fudge would cheer him up.
“We haven’t attended church as a family in years.” Her aunt rode Blaze, a buckskin gelding, beside Ariel on the tree-canopied trail. “I didn’t think I’d like parlor-church, but it turned out just fine. Caleb does better as worship leader than hotel manager.”
“Sam called Caleb a good church singer.” As Ariel and her chestnut mare, Reba, rounded a bend in the trail, she stole a glance at her aunt. She looked refreshed and pretty in her jeans, casual western-style shirt, and riding boots, with her wig in a low ponytail.
“I also heard that over a hundred kids signed up for your teen choir. It’s good marketing, it’ll bring in more money for the town, and the kids will never forget you.”
The compliment would have been sweeter and the ride more relaxing if Caleb hadn’t kissed Ariel. Or if Aunt Dahlia hadn’t caught them. “Thanks. But we need to talk about what you saw last night.”
“I would have known even if I hadn’t seen it, from the way you two looked at each other before and after the service.”
She pressed her hand to her chest, reins and all. “We did not!”
“Everybody knew it but the two of you.”
