Part 23 (1/2)
”Thanks for stopping in, Bill.”
The men shook hands just as Bette walked by Peter's open office door. She waved her sun hat with a polka-dot band. ”Hi, boys.”
”Bette, I thought you were going to quit calling grown men, boys,” Bill called after her.
Bette giggled and continued on toward Harriet's office.
”Are those really red and white stripe hightops she's wearing?” Bill asked, his eyes wide with surprise. ”I tell you, if I were twenty years older,” he joked.
Three weeks later, Sunday dawned hot and sunny in Sunville. Not a cloud marred the unending royal-blue North Dakota sky, but not even the bright light could wake Carrie.
Exhausted from moving into her house the day before, she'd unintentionally slept in. She was in the back bedroom again as she'd always been while Maddie was still alive. She couldn't bring herself to sleep in the four-poster bed in the master bedroom all by herself. That wasn't part of her dream.
The night before, after emptying the little trailer that she'd pulled back from Fargo filled with all her belongings from her apartment, Carrie had to drive back twenty-five miles to find a place open late enough to allow her to return it and remove the rented hitch.
She patted the top of her little car as she climbed in to return home. ”I promise I won't ever abuse you with a trailer again,” she said. But not wanting to overtax the car is why she had taken so long to move. She hadn't gone over forty-five miles an hour all the way.
This was one time she was thankful that the eastern section of North Dakota was more or less flat. The car still sounded fine and since she wouldn't have a regular income for the foreseeable future, that was a good sign.
By the time she returned to the house, she had energy enough only to shower and collapse into bed without a thought to the boxes and suitcases that lined her front hall. She'd tamped down how excited, and yes, how nervous she felt at the prospect of surprising Peter in the morning and was asleep instantly with a smile on her face.
The sounds of the church organ music and the choir singing the processional floated through her open bedroom windows and woke her. Panicked at being late for the service, she bounded out of bed wide awake.
She dressed in a two-piece dress and ran a brush through her hair. She skipped her makeup altogether. She didn't need it. The shadows in evidence under her eyes when she returned to Fargo were gone. Once she'd learned from Don that the elders had listened to Bette's story and convinced Peter not to leave the church, Carrie found she could sleep better. She'd been ready to call Peter to urge him to stay, but she hadn't needed to. In fact, she hadn't talked to him in the weeks since she'd left without saying goodbye.
Don knew she was returning this weekend, but she'd asked him not to tell Peter. ”I want to surprise him,” Carrie told Don. ”Actually, what I really want to do is to see his face when he sees me back in Sunville. I have to be sure I'm doing the right thing, and seeing Peter's initial reaction will be the key.”
Carrie tried to ignore the flutters in her tummy when she thought about seeing him. She flew down the stairs as fast as her low heels would allow, and out the back door without bothering to lock it. In another two minutes, she'd crossed the lawns and was tiptoeing in the main entrance to the quaint, historic Sunville Community Church.
The foyer was empty so she walked across the carpeted floor to stand behind the closed doors to the sanctuary. She swallowed and tried to breathe more slowly and more quietly as she waited for the right moment to slip into the sanctuary unnoticed.
The deacons were collecting the offering while the choir sang the anthem. She stood patiently, peeking through the slit between the double doors. The choir finished, Peter blessed the offering and turned his back to sit down.
The moment his back was to the congregation, Carrie slipped through the doors and slid into the last pew on the center aisle just before the deacons marched right by her with the offering plates.
Smiling at the people who glanced back at her late arrival, she picked up the hymnal to find the page for the responsive reading that the layreader was announcing. When she heard the first line, she knew she didn't need to follow in the book.
”The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,” the reader told the congregation.
Carrie sought out Peter's face which she could see in profile. She wished she was closer so she could see him better. He was watching the reader. That stubborn strand of hair had fallen over his forehead again.
”He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters,” Carrie responded with the others. She certainly felt more at peace than she had in years.
”He restoreth my soul,” she heard the reader say. He has restored me, Carrie thought. During the many phone conversations with Don Hoag, Carrie had taken giant strides on the path to peace and strength within herself. She'd forgiven the townspeople who had rumored that her part in Ralph's death was a major one. She knew better now. That part of her life was put to rest.
”For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me,” she said moments later.
Peter looked tired. Carrie could see that the problems he'd been facing hadn't left him unscathed. She felt his pain and wanted to help. She smiled. Now she could... if he would let her.
”My cup runneth over.” Since I met you, Peter, she added silently. I'm blessed just knowing you, and twice blessed because I love you.
As if he'd heard her, his head jerked around and he looked directly at her. She smiled at the surprised and then relieved looks that pa.s.sed over his face. While they looked at each other in silence, the others around them read, ”And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”
The lay reader sat down.
Peter and Carrie's gazes held long into the silence until a few coughs gently reminded Peter that it was his turn at the pulpit.
Carrie watched as he stood slowly and walked over to it, never taking his eyes off her. She tried to keep smiling, but her lips trembled. She clutched the hymnal to her chest to hide the fact that her hands were trembling as well.
”Each Sunday we have a silent prayer at this point in our service,” Peter began softly, letting the microphone do the work of amplifying his voice. He paused and looked around the congregation. The remarks he was making at this point in the service were so out of the ordinary that he had everyone's rapt attention. ”I believe in the power of prayer, and today I...” His gaze returned to Carrie. ”Well, I'm the one in need of that power in my life. I'm asking you to pray for me.”
Carrie could hear the collective sharp intakes of air by the congregation expressing their concern.
”I've been praying about something for weeks. It's very personal. I can't share it with you just yet, but this morning I'm asking you to pray for me, to help me find the right solution to my problem.”
A low buzz of private conversations hummed across the sanctuary as people conjectured on what the nature of Peter's problem might be.
”I'm not sick or anything,” Peter added quickly with a dismissing sweep of his arm, apparently realizing what they might have construed from his plea. ”Lost a little weight in the last few weeks maybe, but hey, that's not all bad.” He chuckled at himself with the congregation.
”I'll take all the help I can get on this one, folks.” His gaze settled back on Carrie. ”Let's bow our heads in silent prayer.”
The heads around them bowed, but Carrie continued to look up at Peter. His black robe made his black hair seem even darker. The high white collar around his neck stood out in stark contrast to his tanned face. Had he been mowing the church lawn again?
Her smile grew as she sat up straighter so he could be sure to see her whole face. She'd seen the love and concern in his face that she prayed would be there when he saw her. She felt strong and confident in what she wanted to do.
I love you, she mouthed silently.
With evident relief born of understanding and a broad smile filling his face, Peter closed his eyes and tipped his chin heavenward. ”Thank you,” he whispered.