Summer Storms (Seasons of Faith Book 1) Read online

  “Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?” the woman asked politely gesturing to the empty space. Lizzie smiled and shook her head, rising to allow them past her. The couple settled in and the lady turned to Lizzie again. “I’m Emma and this is my husband Ron.”

  “Nice to meet you, I’m Lizzie.”

  “Have you been coming here long?” Emma asked.

  “A few weeks. I guess you could say I’m shopping around right now.”

  Emma nodded knowingly. “It can be hard to find a new church home. Have you been to any of the Sunday school programs here? There is quite a broad range of choices.”

  Lizzie shook her head, embarrassed she had let her church involvement slide so much. “To be honest, I’ve kind of enjoyed just being another face in the crowd.”

  Emma looked around the massive sanctuary, which could easily seat five thousand worshipers, and patted Lizzie’s hand. “Being lost in the crowd can be more comfortable at times, but having a deeper connection with others who share your faith can make the darkest times in life easier.”

  Strains of a contemporary worship song started and the congregation rose to its feet. Lizzie was grateful for the interruption and joined in the song.

  After a time of songs and prayer, the congregation took their seats and Pastor Donovan stepped onto the stage to welcome the crowd. “I know we are all excited about the upcoming holidays and I hope you have been praying about giving to our Lottie Moon Christmas Offering this year. This morning I want to take a few minutes to hear from one of our own couples who have been serving in Africa off and on for the past three years.” Pastor Donovan paused with a warm smile on his face, his eyes searching the crowd. “Please join me in welcoming Ron and Emma Webster.”

  Applause erupted and Lizzie started as the couple next to her rose. She watched them make their way to the front of the church and couldn’t deny her interest was aroused. The couple reached the dais and shook hands with the pastor. Ron took the microphone and swept his gaze across the congregation. Emma stood slightly behind her husband, her flowing red dress reminding Lizzie of photos she had seen of African tribal women.

  “Emma and I felt the Lord calling us to Africa four years ago. Both of us were working in jobs we loved, teaching Sunday school, and trying to start a family. We couldn’t understand why God would be calling us to leave all that behind and tried to push the sensation aside. After six months of each of us being pulled toward ministry, but not telling the other, I finally sat down and told Emma what I was feeling. I was surprised to learn she was experiencing the same thing. We prayed and a sense of peace came upon us.

  “We had sponsored a child in Uganda through World Vision two years earlier so we contacted them to see if they had any volunteer opportunities. They were able to put us in touch with an organization with a trip leaving in two months with two spots open.”

  Emma stepped forward and took over the story. “Before we knew it we were landing in Uganda as part of a team tasked with digging a well in a small village and teaching the local people about the importance of clean water. The villagers were so kind and eager to welcome us into their homes. We were only there for ten days, but we fell in love with the community.”

  Lizzie listened intently as they told about their experiences on that first trip and how they had felt lead to do this full time. They returned home, quit their jobs, moved to a smaller apartment, and got involved with the International Mission Board.

  “Three years and five trips later, we have been blessed by the work we have done in Africa, and look forward to our next trip, which will take us to Darfur. I’m sure many of you are aware of the tragic war that has been raging in Darfur, which has driven millions into refugee camps. On this trip, we will be working in a medical clinic that has been established in one of these camps. We ask for your prayers that God will keep us safe, that we will be able to share his love and forgiveness with those we meet, and for healing in this ravaged region.”

  The crowd rose, deafening applause filling the large room. Ron handed the microphone back to the pastor and took his wife’s hand as they returned to their seats.

  After the service, Lizzie turned to Emma. “I would love to hear more about your work. Would you like to go to lunch?”

  “I would like that. Unfortunately we already have an engagement today.” Emma reached into her purse and pulled out a small notebook. “Why don’t you give me your phone number and I’ll call you tomorrow? Perhaps we can get together after church Wednesday night.”

  Lizzie looked at the floor. “I don’t usually come to church on Wednesdays,” she mumbled.

  Emma laid her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “That’s all right. We can meet anytime that’s convenient for you.” She scribbled on a piece of paper and placed it in Lizzie’s hand. “Here’s our number. Why don’t you think about it and give me a call.” Her voice was kind and reassuring.

  “Thanks.” Lizzie took the paper and slipped it inside her Bible. “I’ll check my calendar.”

  In her chair, Lizzie jerked awake to the ringing phone. She rubbed her eyes and tried to remember where she was. “Hello?” her voice was groggy.

  “Oh did I wake you? I’m sorry.” The deep male voice was vaguely familiar, yet she couldn’t quite place it.

  “Who is this?” Lizzie stood trying to bring her brain into focus.

  “It’s James. I wanted to see if you had any pull with the History Center. They have a new exhibit coming in and I have some clients who would like to get a private tour.”

  “I don’t know. I heard Justin is the new manager. I’m not sure he would be interested in doing me any favors.”

  “He can’t still be sore at you for not wanting to go on a second date. Will you at least give him a call?”

  Lizzie sighed. “Yeah, I’ll call him, but you are going to owe me big time.”

  “You got it. Thanks so much.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The work site’s rhythm of hammers on steel, cranes lifting heavy metal beams, the whooshing thump of nail guns, and voices calling to each other, enveloped Jeffrey as he emerged from the skeletal structure. He looked up to see dark clouds obstructing the sun and casting deep shadows, as wind from the east was picking up. The three o’clock showers should be right on schedule, he thought. He strode to the trailer serving as his office, doing a mental inventory of the tasks to be completed before the next inspection.

  “Jeff! Hey, Jeff!”

  He walked on, oblivious, until a pebble hit his forearm. His head jerked up searching for the source. He caught sight of Wally sitting on a concrete block twenty feet away smiling and waving.

  “What’s the matter with you? You can’t be throwing stuff around here,” Jeffrey snapped.

  “Sorry.” Wally looked sheepish. “I was just trying to get your attention. I called you a couple of times. How did things go after I left Friday?” Wally jumped off the block and walked alongside Jeffrey.

  Jeffrey shrugged. “Nothing exciting. I didn’t stick around much longer.”

  “Are you kidding? That blonde was totally into you.”

  “Yeah, she made that clear,” he responded. “She was too easy.” Jeffrey took the steps to the office two at a time and jerked the thin metal door open, letting it swing shut behind him. He tossed his clipboard onto a dented gray desk, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his brow.

  “How are things looking out there?” A young girl with tight black curls forming a helmet around her small head, sat behind another battered desk. Her eyes followed Jeffrey as he walked to the water cooler, yanked out a paper cup, and took a long drink.

  “We’re behind schedule,” Jeffrey muttered, crushing the paper cup in his fist, shaking his head in disgust. “Jenny,” he turned to face the woman, “will you get Bill Cheevers on the phone please? I need to see if I can reschedule the inspection.”

  “Of course, sir.” Jenny was dialing before he finished speaking. Jeffrey plopped into a bulky office chair. He gazed
blankly at the few beat up desks, covered with empty fast food bags, half empty paper cups, blueprints, hard hats, and notepads. He heard the oscillating fan, emitting a comforting hum, ruffling the loose papers.

  “I have Mr. Cheevers on the line, sir.” Jenny’s soft voice roused Jeffrey. He leaned forward and picked up the phone on his desk.

  “Thanks, Jenny.” He gave her a weary smile before pressing the button to accept the call. “Hey, Bill. It’s Jeffrey. How you doing?”

  “Can’t complain. Worn out from the grandkids spending the weekend with Helen and me. They’re growing up so fast. What can I do for you? Don’t we have an inspection scheduled for Friday?”

  Jeffrey expelled his breath loudly. “That’s why I’m calling. Do you think we can push it back a week? We’ve had a few delays.”

  “Hmm, let me check the calendar, I think I’m pretty booked next week. Hold on a minute.” Bill clicked off and NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye” blared in Jeffrey’s ear. He pulled the receiver away from his head grimacing.

  “Jeff?” Bill came back on the line.

  “I’m here.”

  “Bad news. Next Friday is full and I’m on vacation the following week. The other guys are pretty busy too. I’m afraid if we don’t do it this week you’ll have to wait two weeks.”

  Jeffrey chewed his lip. “What about Wednesday or Thursday?”

  “Looks like I can squeeze you in Wednesday, first thing in the morning, about eight fifteen.”

  “I’ll take it. See you then.” Jeffrey stood and stretched. “Jenny, move the inspection on the calendar. Bill’s coming out next Wednesday at eight instead of this Friday.”

  “You have a meeting with the clients at nine that morning,” she replied hesitantly. Jeffrey cursed under his breath.

  “See if we can push them back to eleven,” Jeffrey called as he stalked out of the trailer, door slamming behind him. He moved across the yard, skirting barrels and sawhorses, tapping his foot with impatience as he waited for the lift to take him to the twenty-fourth floor.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Robbins,” a burly man with dark hair shaved close greeted him as he exited the lift.

  “Hi, Al. How are things up here? Will we be ready for the inspection Friday?” Jeffrey’s eyes scanned the area where steel and wood beams denoted individual rooms, and workers scurried around like angry ants. The frantic pace was an improvement from the snail crawl he’d seen earlier in the day.

  “I’m not sure,” Al said, eyes averted. “I talked with the boys and as you can see they took it to heart, but we lost a lot of time with the storm last week.”

  “I don’t want excuses, Al. If this floor isn’t ready to go by the end of the week I’m docking your pay.” Al started to speak; Jeffrey silenced him with a withering look. “No excuses.” Jeffrey turned on his heel and returned to the waiting lift.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Sandy Point Property Management, this is Christy.” Her voice was more harried than the last time Lizzie had called. Lizzie twirled the phone cord around her index finger.

  “Hi, Christy. I talked to you a few days ago about a property on Washington Avenue.”

  “Right, the Phillips property, you met with David didn’t you?”

  “That’s right, great memory. I was wondering if I could see the property again.”

  “Hold on a minute, David just walked in.” Lizzie heard a muffled conversation and imagined Christy covering the phone with her hand. A brief silence followed, then David’s warm voice came on the line.

  “Good afternoon, Lizzie. I spoke with Mr. Phillips about an hour ago. He was unaware of the state of the house and said he would be willing to lower the rent, does $650 sound more reasonable?”

  Lizzie hesitated, nervous about the offer she was about to make. “Do you suppose he would consider taking renovation work in lieu of rent, at least until the repairs are made? I mean just cleaning the place is going to cost more than $650.”

  “I know where you are coming from. I don’t know if he is that open, but I’ll give him a call. Can I get back to you?”

  “Sure, I’ll be at this number until five,” Lizzie agreed.

  For the next hour, Lizzie prepared itineraries for guests due to arrive for the weekend. All of the suites were booked and most of the guests had special requests ranging from basic dinner reservations to an elaborate marriage proposal. She smiled as she hung up the phone after confirming a carriage ride through downtown for the lucky couple, a twinge of envy tugging at her heart.

  An instant message popped up on her screen from Stephen. Lizzie can you come out here a second? Mrs. Langley is disputing her bill.

  Lizzie sucked in a deep breath, held it then breathed it out, pushing her frustration with this guest aside. Rising from her desk her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller id, but decided to take the call anyway and typed a quick message letting Stephen know she would be there in a minute.

  “Hotel Lago, this is Lizzie. How can I help you?”

  “It’s David Rosenbloom.”

  “Hi, David,” her voice brightened.

  “Mr. Phillips was reluctant at first, but I think I convinced him your offer was the best he was going to get. He wants to think about it overnight. Do you want to see the property again?”

  Lizzie contained a squeal of delight. “Yes! Does five o’clock work for you?”

  “Today?” surprise registered in David’s tone.

  “I know it’s short notice.”

  “No, that’s fine. I can meet you at five.”

  “Thanks so much. I hate to run, but I have a bit of a situation here I need to deal with. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Lizzie hung up the phone and skipped to the front desk.

  “Mrs. Langley, how can I help you?” Lizzie asked.

  “I don’t see the charge for Jeremy’s birthday party on here. You worked so hard and I want to make sure it is covered.”

  Lizzie took the print out from the guest and scanned the charges. “Here it is,” she pointed at a charge listed as room service, “the only charge was for the cake and the conference room.”

  “But it’s only $350, surely it cost more than that.”

  “Well we didn’t end up having any special entertainment and it was only two hours. The YMCA was happy to bring out the kids, what else could there be a charge for?” Lizzie had never had a guest question being under charged.

  Mrs. Langley reached into her wallet and pulled out some bills pressing them into Lizzie’s hand. “I insist you take this for all you did.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Lizzie protested trying to return the money.

  “I know it’s not. You didn’t have to put together this event for my son, but you took it upon yourself to make it a day he would remember and I appreciate that. Please, take it.”

  “Truly it was my pleasure to do it.”

  Mrs. Langley squeezed Lizzie’s palm. “I insist.”

  “Thank you,” Lizzie relented. “I hope we have a chance to see you again soon.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Mrs. Langley smiled, gathered her purse, and disappeared out the front door.

  A warm wind shook the trees and bent the tall grass as Lizzie waited on the sidewalk surveying the landscape and decrepit house. Was this a mistake? Could she actually turn this heap into a home? She studied the yard trying to differentiate between weeds and legitimate plantings. Where do I even start? Should I try to salvage any of the existing plants? She picked her way up the now beaten-down path, sand spurs attaching themselves to the legs of her pants. Flecks of dirty white paint from the columns on either side of the front steps shook free in the gentle breeze and settled in her hair. She climbed the steps and paced the length of the porch trying to picture the faded blue paint scraped off, replaced with a warm sunny yellow.

  “Sorry I’m late,” called David.

  Lizzie turned to see him jogging up the walkway oblivious to the overgrowth. He leapt onto the porch and extended his hand.

&n
bsp; “I really appreciate you meeting me. I know it is the end of the work day and you must want to get home to your family.”

  “Not a problem. I don’t live far from here and Rufus doesn’t mind waiting for me these days.” David chuckled at the quizzical look Lizzie gave him. “Rufus is my dog, a ten year old boxer who would rather sleep on the couch than go for a walk.” He fumbled with some keys before opening the door. Lizzie followed him inside, her mind more open to possibility this time. She noticed the floors were swept clean, the piles of litter gone.

  “Did you do this?” she asked.

  David shrugged. “I figured if I was going to be showing the place it was the least I could do to make it a bit more presentable. Plus, I didn’t want anymore rats scaring off clients.”

  Lizzie ran her fingers along the countertops leaving a line in the dust and grime. She noticed the deep, wide, porcelain sink, like the one in her grandmother’s farmhouse. A window above the sink looked out onto a large backyard, a massive rain tree dripping shade across the tangle of weeds. She envisioned a swing or bench under the ancient branches, a tidy flower garden filling the air with pleasing scents. In the small bedroom, she pictured the walls lined with bookcases and a desk looking out the window. She imagined long, luxurious baths in the clawfoot tub surrounded by candles, soft jazz playing on the stereo. She walked through the house seeing the possibility, oblivious to the reality, her skin prickling with anticipation.

  “I’ll take it.” Lizzie kept her voice calm despite the excitement and apprehension she felt.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  “I’ll get a contract drawn up in the next couple of days. We should be able to…” David glanced around. “I would normally say get you in by the end of the week, how about we just get the papers signed.” They both laughed as they returned to the front porch.

  A white haired lady sat on the porch across the street, her chair rocking in a slow back and forth motion. Lizzie raised her hand to greet her new neighbor, her heart warming at the smile she received in return.