The Barefoot Believers Read online

  No, the baby wasn’t his daughter, but unless something changed very soon, he was going to be the child’s primary father figure.

  “Oh, Gentry. What happened?” she murmured, trying to picture how the boy she had known as a caring if clingy six-year-old had grown into a man who could abandon his own wife and child.

  It occurred to her that maybe she had played some part in it. Had her leaving all those years ago caused a sort of disconnect in the boy, or between father and son, that had these kinds of long-term effects? She of all people knew that the smallest of things could have a profound impact on a child.

  Why wouldn’t they? Children are small. Their worlds are small. Their perception is small. They are so vulnerable and often at the mercy of people, concepts and realities that are much too large for them to comprehend.

  Wasn’t there a Bible verse about thinking as a child then putting away childish things? She reached out to the nightstand and pulled open the single drawer. There it was, her old paperback Bible with the teal, magenta and orange designs on it, meant to make it look radical, the word of the moment back then for cool.

  She smiled, drew it out and quickly found the verse she had been thinking of, 1 Corinthians, 13:11.

  “When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things,” she read aloud then set the book back on the nightstand, her curiosity satisfied but her heart far from it.

  Kate had done away with childish things when she’d still been a child. That was when she had learned that the people we love do not always love us back. The people we trust are not always worthy of that trust. And things we think we should have for a lifetime can be taken away in the blink of an eye.

  She thought of young Gentry.

  Then of Fabiola.

  Then last and most achingly of her baby sister Christina.

  I wasn’t born old. I grew old too fast. Kate’s own words rang through her mind.

  “If only,” she whispered.

  If only she had called out that night when she’d heard her father creeping out the door and driving off in the brand-new shiny truck that he and Mom had fought so much over. Kate couldn’t have known he’d had the youngest of the girls with him, or she would have called out, she had told herself time and again.

  But deep down, Kate could still feel that sense of relief that had enveloped her when she knew her father had left their home. The same sweet reprieve she had felt every year at this very cottage when they had escaped from the harsh reality of first a bad marriage and then a broken family. She had been glad he was gone and so she had stayed silent. That was a childish mistake she had determined she would never repeat.

  But had she repeated it? Had her silence, her absence, brought about more pain for someone she had loved?

  Guilt constricted her chest even all these years later. Heaped on top of that was the new realization that her choice to let fear of that same kind of loss had driven her away from Vince and Gentry when she was an adult and should have known better. What if she had stayed back then?

  No one could guarantee that they would have lived happily ever after. They had only been unofficially engaged, after all. She’d loved Vince then, of course. Who was she kidding; she loved Vince still.

  But when she had left, had he followed? Had he even once asked her what she was so afraid of? Maybe he hadn’t really loved her? Or maybe he’d been scared, too, and young.

  Still, if he had learned anything from that time, why would he stand by and allow—no, enable—Gentry to do the same thing to Esperanza? Why didn’t he tell his son to go after his wife, to fight for his family? After all, Fabbie and Esperanza were Gentry’s family. Unlike Kate.

  Then again, Kate had never told Vince how she had felt, so maybe…

  If she had it to do over again? Kate shut her eyes. She had made that decision already, hadn’t she? She could not stay and risk involvement with Vince and his family. Esperanza was young and pretty. If she and Gentry did not work out their differences, she would surely move on and take Fabiola with her. How could Kate knowingly set herself up for something like that?

  A damp draft overtook Kate. She shivered then threw her blanket around her shoulders. Hunched over, she scooted her way to the window to push it shut, only to find it closed and locked. And letting in air from somewhere.

  She ran her fingers along the sides and bottom of the sill to try to find the source of the chill. Nothing.

  She shuddered again. She’d have to come back and look for the gap later in the day, when it was warm in the upper rooms and she’d welcome the coolness. Of course, by then the breeze would have stopped blowing, she mused, throwing the cover off and sliding out of bed.

  The flash of blankets in the confined space caught the Bible by the corner and sent it tumbling downward.

  Kate reached out and caught it before it thumped to the ground, but not before something small, metallic and as shiny as a new dime fell out. It somersaulted through the air then pinged against the hardwood floor.

  “The key!” She grabbed it up and pressed the icy metal into the warmth of her palm. “Now I remember. I hid it in my Bible because I thought Jo wouldn’t have the nerve to snoop for it in there.”

  Travis had pegged Jo perfectly yesterday when he’d accused her of having a knack for finding Kate’s most prized, and secret, possessions.

  “Wow.” She put the Bible back in the drawer, promising she wouldn’t go so long without opening it up again. Then she sent the key sailing in the air like a penny flipped in a coin toss.

  Slap. She caught it between her hands and laughed.

  Maybe this morning did still have some promise left in it, she thought, edging her way off the bed and onto her feet, using the wall for support. I’ll just make my way downstairs and while the coffee is brewing have a little look-see at what’s in that old treasure chest, before Jo starts snooping around trying to find out what secrets are in there.

  She couldn’t recall when she had last put anything in the box. So she had no idea what to expect to find. Pictures cut from fan magazines of teen heartthrobs? A piece of driftwood she had thought particularly pretty? Some old photographs taken the year she had gotten an Instamatic camera? Whatever it was, Kate realized she had once thought of it as treasure and she wanted to see it by herself first.

  She touched the Bible and said a quick prayer of gratitude. Yes, she had put away childish things too soon, but she couldn’t help but feel thankful that in spite of that, she had found this small bit of her childhood again. Maybe seeing those things would help her forgive her younger self, or at least accept the past for what it was—past.

  At the very least it would get her mind off Gentry, Esperanza and Fabiola, and her own role in their distressing situation.

  From where she stood, she could see the mystery house, if she wanted to see it. She cast her gaze downward as she put the Bible back in the drawer, reminding herself not to allow this treasure to languish there too long. Then she reached out to put the covers back on the bed.

  In that instant something caught her eye. A figure. A movement. A flurry of white flouncing and flitting in the street below—and heading directly for her cottage.

  “Hello?”

  Kate froze at the sound of Esperanza’s voice coming from the front porch. Let Jo deal with it.

  Kate held her breath and listened for Jo’s response. Anything, from her already being awake and downstairs to swinging open the door, to her groggily calling out the window of the bedroom across the hall, “Go around back. That porch isn’t safe.”

  Nothing. Not a peep.

  “Jo?” Kate called.

  No answer.

  “Can you get that?”

  Still no answer.

  “Please. Please. Wake up.” The cry came above the pounding on the door.

  Kate grabbed the top blanket and wrapped it around herself but she did not make a move for the bedroom door. “Jo?
You’re faster on your feet than me, take care of that.”

  Not so much as a fake snore from the direction of Jo’s room.

  More pounding downstairs, then finally, “It’s the baby. I need to see the doctor.”

  Before she had a chance to think about how stiff she felt or how much her foot would encumber her, Kate was out the door and in the stairwell calling, “I’m coming.”

  “Please. I don’t know what to do. She was—”

  Kate flung open the door.

  Esperanza’s face rivaled her white cotton nightgown for paleness. Her dark eyes appeared enormous and bright with tears and terror. “She was fine last night.”

  The girl barged in with the baby’s pink cheek smooshed against her shoulder.

  Fabiola fussed, though quietly, and pushed at her mother’s grasp. A good sign, Kate concluded. If the child had gone limp or lethargic or, even worse, stiffened suddenly, that would worry her more.

  She put her hand to the baby’s forehead. Hardly scientific but a method that had served mothers and healers for ages. “She is very hot. We need to get that temp down.”

  Esperanza nodded.

  “Have you given her anything?” Kate moved into E.R. mode and began a cursory exam.

  Emergency medicine initially had seemed tailor-made for her—fast-paced, little personal involvement and instead of having to move on every so often, an environment that changed constantly. Her rotation in the E.R. had dissuaded her of those notions quickly. Unlike the constant excitement portrayed on TV, the only constant in her experience was boredom, broken up for a few minutes every now and then by sheer chaos.

  And in those moments, the chance, however small, that she would have to make one of those big decisions she could not fix or take back. Not for her.

  She had learned, however, about dealing with cases just like Fabiola’s. Many a panicked parent had passed through the doors with a sick child in the middle of the night. More now that so many people had no health insurance.

  She would tell them what she was about to tell Esperanza. “We can do some things to help get the fever down immediately but we need to get her to her doctor as soon as possible so we can rule out any serious underlying causes for the fever.”

  “But you’re a doctor,” Esperanza whispered, her face grim.

  “But this is not a hospital or doctor’s office. I don’t have the equipment or facilities to do anything but basic home care, sweetie.” Kate pried the baby from her mother’s arms. “Now, I have some liquid acetaminophen in my first-aid kit. I’ll give her the right dose and get her into a cool bath. You go back to your house—”

  “I don’t want to leave my baby.” Esperanza reached out to the child.

  Kate held firm. “Just long enough to throw on some clothes and shoes and to get her pediatrician’s phone number.”

  The young mother stepped back, hesitated, then said quietly, “She doesn’t have a pediatrician. So far her father hasn’t stayed at a job long enough to get insurance and I just started working at Billy J’s.”

  “Okay.” Again the guilt over how Gentry had turned out and how she might have affected his growth stabbed at her. She did not have time for that now, so she pushed it aside. “Okay. Go home and get dressed. Use the back door, though. We can’t risk you falling through the porch and getting hurt right now. When you get back, we’ll go.”

  “Go where?” Esperanza kept at her heels, which meant she had to move in a jerking, quick step-stop movement to keep from overrunning cast-wearing Kate.

  “As I recall, Santa Sofia has a small hospital.” Struggling to keep her grip on the squirming child, Kate used her shoulder to hit the light switch. The kitchen, where she had left the first-aid kit when she’d wrapped Jo’s ankle days ago, flooded with light.

  That did not help Esperanza’s dim news. “Not anymore.”

  Kate slowed but did not stop. “What?”

  “The hospital closed last year,” Esperanza said.

  Kate stopped a few feet from the sink, trying to give her brain a shot at processing this info and at assessing what to do next.

  “We do have an urgent-care clinic.”

  “Okay.” She took another step. The stopper clinked into place in the drain. A twist of the knob and the rush and splash of water filling the sink underscored Kate’s hurried order. “Get dressed. We’ll go there.”

  “I don’t have a car.”

  “My sister will take us.” Kate tested the water then moved to the cabinet where she had tucked the first-aid kit away.

  Esperanza finally agreed with a nod and headed for the back door.

  “Jo!” Kate yelled as loud as she could.

  Fabiola cringed then yowled at the rude blast of sound.

  A response that Kate took as a good sign. “Jo! Wake up, we have—”

  “She’s not here.” Esperanza stood in the doorway and whipped her head around. “Her car is not in the driveway.”

  “What? It’s early Sunday morning. Where could she be?”

  “Church?”

  “We don’t have a church here.” When they were younger they had always just gone to the Traveler’s Wayside Chapel for…“Travis.”

  “What should we do?”

  They couldn’t exactly call Jo now. If she was in church, she had probably silenced her cell phone. If she hadn’t silenced it, then their call would intrude on the service for others. Kate wrestled to get the medicine bottle out of the kit, then measure out the dosage as she mentally ticked off their options.

  “I can call Vince,” Esperanza said. It was not a question. It was a habit. The same answer the for-all-practical-purposes single mom had learned to give to any problem.

  Fabiola fought the dropper at first, but Kate persisted and in a moment had emptied out the medicine. She took a moment to wipe the thick red liquid from the child’s chin. “I know, sweetie, sometimes the things that are best for us are the hardest for us to swallow.”

  The last words slowed and faded on her tongue.

  Kate jerked her head up. “Esperanza?”

  “What?” The girl’s delicate footsteps resounded across the back deck, she stuck her head in the door. “Is she worse?”

  “No.” Kate gazed down at the child, who had relaxed a bit and was making faces and sticking her tongue out trying to get rid of the medicine’s aftertaste. The child wasn’t worse, but Kate might just be about to make things between herself and her one-time love worse. She had no business doing it, either. But that wasn’t going to stop her.

  She had run from the big life decisions, from the looming specter of loss, from her own silence for too long. It ended today. No matter what the costs.

  She would put away those childish fears and do the right thing, by giving someone else the chance to do the right thing also. “Don’t call Vince. I am going to call Gentry.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So no service?”

  “Are you kidding?” Travis brandished a long silver spatula and in one fluid movement used it to pry an overcooked pancake off a portable griddle on a counter in the chapel’s basement kitchenette. “Best service in town, don’t you think?”

  Jo had arrived early, hoping to, well, planning to make sure the adorable minister knew she had made the effort to come to worship this morning. She’d worn her best non-Realtor business-suit type of dress and a pair of modest—in style but not in price—shoes. And had even managed to tame the shreds of her custom-cut- to-accommodate- her-extensions hair into a fluffy, girlie hairdo. Cute but not out of the question for a minister’s wife. Or friend.

  A minister’s friend, she reminded herself.

  She had had visions of herself sitting in the front pew, all sweet and blond and attentive. Of listening to the message of grace, singing the Lord’s praises from her heart and afterward inviting the resident man of God out for lunch.

  But lunch was not exactly on the menu.

  “Why breakfast?”

  “It’s the most important meal of
the day?”

  Jo put her hand on her hip and looked up at him.

  He grinned at her and went back to work pouring batter on the griddle. “The answer is in our name.”

  “Wayside Chapel?”

  He nodded. “Wayside missions have a longstanding tradition of existing for those who are off the path, who have literally fallen by the wayside. We meet those people where they are, not where we are most comfortable.”

  That made Jo squirm a little. Her life, even life in her daydreams, had stayed pretty much tucked safely inside her comfort zone.

  “So we serve meals and run food banks and clothes closets—”

  “And loan out crutches.”

  He grinned. “And loan out crutches, to anyone in need. In Santa Sofia that also includes reaching out to our significant tourist population, of course.”

  “We used to come here ourselves on Sundays. And sometimes Mom would come for the evening service, also.”

  “We still do it on Wednesday and Sunday evenings—we call it All Souls Worship and Praise Sing-along.”

  She smiled at the thought of all those strangers and locals coming together to lift their voices and make a joyful noise. Or as in the case of her own singing, a boisterous noise, emphasis on noise.

  “Maybe you can come by tonight, then.”

  “I’d like that.”

  All around them people had begun to gather, most of them calling out their hellos to Travis first and then to each other. All of them eyed her. They whispered with one another, then stole another peek at her again. And Jo did not think it was because of her darling hairdo.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have come by this morning?”

  “Don’t say that. I’m glad you did.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I could always use an extra hand in the chow line.”

  She had deserved that gentle but firm reminder. This was neither the time nor the place for trying to get Travis’s attention. In this place, and at this time more than any other, he must rightly focus on the people who came to him seeking the love of the Lord.

  She made a sweeping glance of the room and noted all the people dressed more for cleaning out a garage than for congregating in a church. At least she thought they had come seeking the Lord. Maybe they just came because McDonald’s was too crowded.