Yesterday Lost Read online

  “And he wasn’t offering to show you the way back.”

  “Exactly. Which made me even madder. But then I sobered up and started to enjoy it, and finally something happened to me. We were sitting under the stars one night, and Cork was just kind of musing about how many stars God had made and wondering if he was still making new ones, and wasn’t it fantastic that God cared for each one of us, insignificant as we were in the midst of all this, that he loved us so much his own Son came to us. And suddenly, as if a light snapped on in my head, all the stuff Cork had been trying to get through to me became real. It wasn’t just meaningless words any more. It all made sense, and I sat there just feeling enveloped in the Lord’s love.”

  Jace broke off as the memory of the awe and wonder of those moments obviously came back to him, and Katy felt within herself an odd yearning for . . . what? She didn’t know, but suddenly a small light came on in her own head.

  “And that’s why, when you started the school, you named it Damascus! Because on a mountain trail in Montana you had this life-changing experience like Paul’s, when he met the Lord on the road to Damascus!”

  “A bit presumptuous of me, because my experience couldn’t come close to Paul’s, but I would like to help the boys find the glorious immersion in his love that came to me that night—” He broke off again, a surprised look on his face. “What do you know about Paul and his road-to-Damascus experience? As I recall, you always had more faith in the Easter bunny than in Jesus. And what you knew about the Bible would fit on the end of a mascara brush,” he added bluntly.

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly, as puzzled as she had been earlier when her knowledge about Samson and his shorn hair had popped up. Why and how did she know these things?

  “Did something happen to you in the last few months, Kat . . . Katy? Some spiritual awakening of your own that made you read the Bible?’

  She remembered her rejection of Dr. Fischer’s pastor, and now that same hostile feeling surged forward again. No entrance here! She was not going to sit here and be questioned and preached to by Jace as if she were one of his wayward boys.

  “No,” she snapped curtly. She may have acquired some unexplained biblical knowledge, but she had not morphed into a devout believer. “I’d rather not talk about this anymore,” she added stiffly.

  If Jace intended to pursue this subject in spite of her objections, he didn’t have a chance. A herd of shivering, noisy boys descended on the campfire, spraying water like wet puppies and good-naturedly jostling for space close to the heat. After the boys warmed up, Jace presided over races, varying the competition from speed to accuracy to expertise at turns to give each boy a chance to show off individual skills. The outing ended with a football-type huddle for a brief prayer, and then, to Katy’s surprise, the boys trooped over to give her awkward but sincere thanks for letting them come here to enjoy the river.

  After the “orange bug” procession started back toward the school, Jace carried water from the river to douse the fire and checked to make sure no equipment had been left behind. Katy’s crutches were still in the pickup, so all she could do was sit and wait. She stiffened when he picked her up, carefully not letting a single inch more of her body touch his than was absolutely unavoidable. She did not let one arm go around his neck as she now realized had happened before, and she did not acknowledge the appeal of his muscular strength and the damp warmth and smoky scent that clung to him.

  The door frame knocked her hat askew as he scooted her into the pickup. She plopped it back on her head.

  “Are you afraid of a spiritual experience?” he asked, his arms still between her and the seat.

  She squirmed away. “I don’t believe in spiritual experiences!”

  “You didn’t sound like it when you compared my experience to Paul’s on the road to Damascus.”

  “If there is a God, I don’t think he gives a hoot about most of us. Or maybe he just abandons or forgets us if we don’t live up his standards or he’s in a bad mood or something.”

  Jace tilted his head. “Are you referring to something in particular, Katy?”

  “Not necessarily,” she had to admit. But even if she couldn’t remember what was behind her hostility, she could feel it welling up in an icy fountain from her heart.

  “The Lord forgives when we ask him to. He doesn’t condemn. And even if we abandon him, he never forgets or abandons us. He doesn’t give up on us even if we give up on him. He’s working in our lives whether or not we recognize it at the time. ‘God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.’”

  She recognized his last words as a quote from somewhere in Psalms, but she refused to acknowledge that. All she said was a stiff, “I’ll think about that.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, I think you will.” He smoothed a wisp of hair valiantly trying to grow above her ear. “Katy, no matter how you try to deny it, you are different now. You’ve changed during these past months. You’d never even have considered ‘thinking about it’ before.” He smiled. “And I rather like the new and improved Kat ‘Katy’ Cavanaugh.”

  She didn’t want to feel warmed by that comment, but she couldn’t help a faint glow that started where his fingertip lightly caressed a point behind her ear.

  “Would you like to come to services in our chapel this Sunday? And maybe stay for dinner afterward? We eat cafeteria style during the week, but Sunday is a sit-down dinner.”

  She hesitated, oddly drawn by the invitation. But then another light came on in her mind, and she jerked away from the touch of his fingertips. “No, thank you.”

  To herself she added, And if you think you can get me to go through with the land donation by buttering me up, think again!

  They drove back to the house in silence.

  Chapter Seven

  The more she thought about it, the stronger Katy felt that Jace had simply been trying to butter her up in hopes of getting the land donation revived. Complimenting her, carrying her as if she were some featherweight princess, offering friendly invitations. She didn’t know why this realization of the motive behind his actions should hurt as well as make her angry, but it did.

  She saw several cars drive under the swinging sign at the school’s entrance on Sunday morning, which pointed out that what she’d received wasn’t some exclusive invitation. Anyone in the surrounding area who wanted to come to the services was obviously welcome. She was standing by the window, feeling restless, when the sound of an old-fashioned church bell startled her. It rang out from across the road, pealing across forest and meadow and hills with a serene but joyful majesty, gloriously pure and beautiful, and it called to something deep inside her.

  She stood at the open window of the bedroom, her breathing shallow, fists clenched around her crutches, as the sound rolled through her like a melodic heartbeat. Mt. Shasta glistened in the sun as if frosted with celestial crystals, an iridescent hummingbird momentarily hovered in her face, and a scent almost unbearably fresh and sweet drifted up from the green meadow. God’s creations. Again an unknown yearning tugged at her like a powerful tide swirling around and through her.

  And then came a strange, aching loneliness as the sound of the bell faded away and only an echoing silence remained.

  A pan clattered in the kitchen, and she abruptly snapped out of the odd spell. Of course there was loneliness, but it had nothing to do with a noisy bell shattering the peace of an otherwise gorgeous morning. She’d lost her parents and her past, and her future hung like a question mark before her. She’d be abnormal if she didn’t feel lonely.

  She brushed away a tear that had started down her cheek and determinedly clomped off to the kitchen. She’d had an urge to try her hand at cooking the last couple of days, and this was as good a time as any to do it. Mrs. L. appeared astonished by her sudden desire to make a pie but quickly cooperated by bringing out a cookbook and helping her locate flour and shortening and suggesting peaches from the freezer as a f
illing.

  “Haven’t I always liked to cook?” Katy asked. She couldn’t remember making pies, but cutting the shortening into the flour felt pleasingly familiar. She had to brace herself against the counter as she worked, but it felt wonderful to be doing something.

  “You loved to putter in the kitchen with me when you were little, but I don’t think you did much cooking in New York. I had the impression you ate out most of the time. Or dieted.”

  Mrs. L. thawed the frozen peaches in the microwave. She watched with a delighted smile as Katy rolled out the dough and neatly fluted the edges of the top crust over the filling. And when the fragrant, flaky pie came out of the oven, she declared it as good or better than any she’d ever done herself.

  “Oh, Katy, it’s so wonderful to have you back, so much more like you were when you were a little girl.” Mrs. L. hugged her impulsively, and they both laughed as button-tailed, jealous Tillie tried to sharpen her claws on Katy’s cast.

  Making the pie took care of the morning, but Katy still felt restless as she wandered from window to window. Mrs. L. asked if she’d like to look at photographs again, but she was tired of the frustration of trying to breathe life into a dead yesterday. It would be a wonderful afternoon for hiking. Which she couldn’t do, of course. Or swimming. She shuddered lightly. No, even if she weren’t weighed down with the cast, not swimming. Just watching the rough water on the far side of the river when she was out there with Jace and the boys had made her feel uneasy. But she and Mrs. L. could take a spin in the red-toy convertible!

  She enthusiastically enlarged on the idea as she presented it to Mrs. L. “We can pack a lunch and have a little picnic!”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Sweetie,” Mrs. L. said doubtfully. “The convertible has a stick shift, and I haven’t driven a stick shift in years.”

  “So you kill the engine or get it in the wrong gear or something. Who cares?” Katy said gaily. “C’mon, let’s do it!”

  “But it hasn’t been driven since you were here last. It might not even start.”

  “We won’t know unless we try, will we? Let’s pack a lunch and give it a try.”

  Mrs. L. still seemed doubtful, but she put together a salad while Katy made ham-and-cheese sandwiches. Seeing Kay piling fat slices of onion on one sandwich, Mrs. L. finally seemed to catch her enthusiasm and laughed.

  “Better put onions on my sandwich too. With you breathing onion fire, I think I’ll need some in self-defense.”

  By the time Mrs. L. backed the convertible out of the garage in a series of jerky hops, they were both giggling. A jolt forward and a quick engine death when Mrs. L. got in the wrong gear brought more giggles.

  “Which way?” Mrs. L. asked when she finally braked cautiously at the main road.

  “I’ve already been that way,” Katy said, motioning toward Wilding. “Let’s be adventurous and try the other direction.”

  This time Mrs. L. got into the right gear, but she pressed too hard on the accelerator, and they took off as if they were in the Indy 500, squirting gravel like rocky lightning.

  “Whee!” Katy said.

  “Whoa!” Mrs. L. corrected, pulling the eager convertible down to a more sedate pace.

  “Gas?” Katy asked suddenly.

  “You check. I don’t dare take my eyes off the road. I think this little rascal would take off and fly if I’d let it!”

  Katy leaned over and checked various dials on the dashboard. The gas gauge showed almost full. “We can make it to the moon and back,” she declared confidently.

  They met no cars on the road, and even log trucks weren’t running on a Sunday, but once, to Katy’s astonishment, a bear and two cubs dashed across the road in front of them. She felt gloriously carefree in the open convertible, at one with mountains and sky and sunshine. A balmy current of pine-scented air flowed against her skin and teased the scarf anchoring her hat. Sunlight shafting between the trunks of tall firs and pine created a dazzling light-and-shadows show as they slipped into a living tunnel created by an overhead canopy of branches. A herd of deer grazed among blue wildflowers along a meandering stream in a meadow, the scent of tall grass damp and lush. The engine purred like a lazy cat, with a reassuring growl of power on the steep hills.

  They finally stopped at a tiny forest service campground with just three picnic tables, a half dozen resident squirrels, and a soft matting of old pine needles underfoot. The bright-eyed squirrels wouldn’t come close, but a bold bluejay hopped to within a few feet of the table to pick up bits of bread crust Katy tossed him. In the open air the sandwiches and salad tasted fantastic, the lemonade from a Thermos better than any lush champagne. Mrs. L. had brought a camera along, and they snapped clowning-around pictures of each other and the squirrels and bluejay.

  After the late lunch Mrs. L. brought out pen and paper and settled down to write a long letter to Evan, and Katy leaned against the curve of an oak tree and dozed peacefully. Later they finished up the leftovers and lingered until the cooling air and lengthening shadows made Katy reluctantly say they’d better start home.

  Then a small problem surfaced. A control button plainly indicated that it should raise the top of the convertible, but all the button did when pressed was growl ominously. After giving up on the uncooperative button, they spent an even longer time trying to figure out if the top could be raised manually.

  The last rays of sunlight had already left the forested hilltops to the east, and the road was in blue-shadowed dusk by the time they decided to settle for a chilly, open-air ride home. Katy was relieved that there were no problems with the headlights when Mrs. L. flicked that switch, and the gas gauge still showed a comforting half full.

  But Mrs. L. fussed as she glanced across the low bucket seats at Katy. “Oh dear, this worries me. You mustn’t catch cold, not along with everything else.”

  The air blowing into the open vehicle was no longer the balmy caress it had been in the afternoon sunshine, but Katy quickly said, “I’m fine,” even as the cold raised goosebumps on her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to burrow into the seat.

  Out of nowhere, like an entity materializing out of thin air, a dark figure leaped into the headlights. Two eyes glowed in the beams, frozen as if paralyzed by the light. “Watch out!” Katy screamed. She grabbed the seat belt. “We’re going to hit it—”

  Mrs. L. slammed the brakes so hard they squealed. She twisted the wheel, and the tires skidded sideways on gravel. The flag of dust following the car enveloped them in a choking cloud. But in relief Katy saw the frightened deer bound safely across the road and vanish into a seemingly impenetrable wall of forest. She sagged against the leather seat and briefly closed her eyes, shaken but relieved they hadn’t injured or killed the innocent animal.

  The jolting stop had killed the engine. It also must have thrown the headlights out of kilter, Katy thought, because they now pointed crazily skyward, illuminating the tops of the dark trees. Then she realized the whole car was tilted at a disoriented angle. She peered over the side and saw the bottom of the ditch barely inches below her.

  “We slid off the road,” Mrs. L. announced shakily. Still clutching the steering wheel, she peered down at Katy from her higher position in the tilted car. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so. Good thing we were wearing our seat belts.”

  “Just let me sit here a minute and stop shaking, and then I’ll see if the engine will start again.”

  Finally, after wiping her hands nervously on her pants, Mrs. L. tried the engine. It started nicely, and they looked at each other in relief. But when she shifted into first and eased her foot down on the gas, the engine simply growled uselessly as the tires dug ever deeper into the slope of the ditch. The car slid farther sideways, so steeply angled now that Katy was almost lying against the door.

  “Oh, no, we can’t be stuck out here!” Even with the car tilted at the awkward angle, Mrs. L. frantically jammed the accelerator to the floor.
The useless straining of the engine rose to a squeal, and Katy covered her head as the spinning wheels sprayed dirt and weeds and gravel.

  A hot scent of oil, grease, and rubber boiled up around them, and Katy came out from under the sheltering cover of her arms to put a restraining hand on Mrs. L.’s arm. “Maybe we’d better let it cool down.”

  Mrs. L. didn’t have to turn the engine off. It suddenly gave a strangled gasp and died, and silence settled around them with the soft flutter of falling dust.

  “I wonder how far we are from home?” Katy tried to keep a small panic out of her voice.

  “Miles.” Mrs. L. fumbled in her purse and pulled out the cell phone that wouldn’t work at the house, but would sometimes work a short distance away. It didn’t work now. “Oh, Katy, what are we going to do?” Mrs. L. sounded on the brink of a much larger panic.

  Katy loosened the scarf and shook the dust out of her hat. What were they going to do? There were not apt to be any helpful passersby. No one lived out this way. It was all government-owned forest land beyond her place and Damascus. She obviously couldn’t walk anywhere. With the convertible angled into the ditch she doubted she could even get the door open, much less crawl out of it.

  At this point Jace would no doubt advise prayer. That was what people did in times of crisis, wasn’t it? But she’d prayed before, and—

  Deep in her mind, something glimmered just beyond the edge of identification. She’d prayed before and . . . what? She strained at the dark glimpse of something, struggling as if a door had momentarily cracked open but would go no farther. Had she prayed when she was injured and alone on the beach?

  She swallowed and abruptly abandoned that line of thought.

  She glanced across at Mrs. L. who was still gripping the steering wheel as if it were the rail of a sinking ship. Could Mrs. L. walk out for help? Katy doubted it, and, in all honesty, she had no desire to be trapped alone in the open car in the dark. She tried to keep her voice confident as she came up with the only possible solution.