Grounds To Believe. Shelley Bates
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him, not you yourself?”
Only a self-centered person would think the question insulting. She really had to learn to conquer this fault. It seemed to be cropping up all the time lately. She needed to focus less on herself and more on others, as the Spirit had told her. “Claire seemed to think so,” she ventured.
Melchizedek looked past her with a faraway expression. “I wonder.”
Owen spoke up. “Do you think you might see him again?”
Julia floundered for an answer. She was sure of it—for some reason she couldn’t explain, Ross Malcolm wanted to spend time with her. She could see where Melchizedek’s questions were leading, though. She felt like a kayaker in a swift river, backpaddling frantically to avoid committing herself to the waterfall up ahead. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered finally. Melchizedek was frowning at her long hesitation. “He just turns up.”
“Do you feel comfortable with him? Safe?”
Julia choked down a mouthful of tepid coffee. Safe? Who could feel safe around someone who wore jeans to make women look at him instead of to work, like any sensible man? “I…don’t think he would assault me, if that’s what you mean,” she replied cautiously. “But I don’t know anything about him.” She paused, remembering. “Well, he did say he’d lost his wife recently.”
Melchizedek looked pleased. “I knew it! He is seeking spiritual comfort. Julia, if you see him again, and he asks you for coffee or something, would you go? Think what it would mean to him to hear about the Lord’s work.”
Anyone else would say yes without hesitation. There must be something wrong with her. “I…I don’t….”
“This is serious, Julia,” Owen put in. He put his cup and saucer down and leaned toward her. “If he misses his chance of salvation, it could be on your head for all eternity.”
“It looks like you have a heavy responsibility in this,” Melchizedek agreed. “God has chosen you for this work out of all the Elect in Hamilton Falls. It’s a tremendous privilege. Are you able for it?”
The coffee had dried out the inside of her mouth. Though the room was warm, a chill crept into her hands and feet. “I don’t know,” she whispered. A piece of apple-sauce spice cake sat on the side of her saucer. The thought of taking a bite, of feeling it stick to the roof of her mouth, made her ill.
“I feel it in my heart,” Melchizedek said. “Think of the service you can render to the poor man. And to the Elect. A man who drives a motorcycle as expensive as that one may feel moved to make sacrifices for God’s work in gratitude for comfort in his loss. Remember, Saint Paul commended the liberality of the Corinthians because it meant furthering his efforts in the mission field.”
Julia nodded wordlessly. Satisfied, Melchizedek and Owen finished up their coffee and cake, and turned their chairs to include the rest of the room in general conversation. As soon as she decently could, Julia slipped out of the living room and took refuge in her old bedroom down the hall.
Her mother had cleaned out any evidence of the teenager who had left it, and turned the room into a second guest room. Julia sank into the easy chair next to the window and covered her eyes with one hand. She’d only have a few minutes of blessed solitude to regroup and regain her composure before someone came to find her.
Every one of the Elect wanted to be used by the Spirit to bring someone to Melchizedek. They were brought up to it practically from birth. But her salvation depended upon bringing this particular man to the fold. What would happen to her if she failed? Would he ride away on his motorcycle, leaving her doomed to hell for eternity? Would God ever forgive her? Would Melchizedek? He lived with this kind of responsibility every day, but he had been called and equipped by God for it.
She was still contemplating the terrifying prospect when Madeleine pushed the door open. It scraped on the carpet just as it had for years, providing an early warning system. Julia looked up, resting her head on the back of the chair.
“Here you are.” Madeleine pushed the door shut and sat on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing, hiding behind closed doors?”
“Just, um, meditating,” Julia said. It was an answer that could cover a multitude of other reasons. Should she confide in Madeleine? No. Her sister had never failed at anything. She would just tell her that God’s grace was sufficient for her, and secretly pity Julia for her lack of faith.
“You should be praying,” Madeleine said firmly. “I really wonder about you sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Your Shepherd and Elder have more important things to do than talk to you about your choice of company.”
Julia stared at her. “It wasn’t like that at all. Ross wanted to come to the service. When he saw he was late, he just waited in the parking lot to talk to me.”
Madeleine tucked in her chin and looked at Julia over a pair of imaginary eyeglasses, as if trying to see in her younger sister a reason for a worldly man to do such a thing. Easy for Madeleine. Men had been trying to get her to talk to them from the age of twelve.
“He wanted to come to the service? Dressed like that? Hmph.” She paused, but when Julia said nothing, her curiosity got the better of her. “What did Melchizedek say, then, if he wasn’t giving you a talking-to? It was too quiet for any of us to hear.”
Julia bit back a caustic remark about her sister’s own lack of faith. She was going to need her—the Elder’s wife—to go to bat for her reputation, the way things were heading. “If Ross is searching for God, Melchizedek thinks I could be useful.”
“Really.” Taken aback, Madeleine allowed her spine to relax. This was obviously not the conversation she had expected.
Julia’s mouth twisted. Had the whole family thought she’d been getting a lecture on her bad taste in men? If they only knew. She stood up. “Well, I should be going. I have to work tomorrow.”
“You poor thing. If you’d said yes to Derrick last year, you’d be married by now and wouldn’t have to worry about things like this.” Her sister hugged her, and Julia made an effort to hug her back.
When she got out of the car at home she stood for a moment in the driveway, breathing in the scent of damp soil and Rebecca’s Peace roses. She must have been out here with the hose in the cool of the evening. Rebecca lived on the main floor of the tall Victorian at 1204 Gates Place, and rented the top suite to single Elect girls, of whom Julia was the latest in a long line.
She felt restless and uneasy. All she wanted was to get away from people, from speculation, from impossible spiritual burdens laid upon her by people who were supposed to love her. Besides, if Rebecca heard her going up the stairs, she might want to talk about the biker too. She just couldn’t face a third interrogation.
She still had on the running shoes she used for driving, a habit she’d developed to save wear on her pumps. Locking her purse and Bible case in the car, she slipped her keys in the pocket of her dress and walked briskly down the street.
The lakeshore was nearly deserted. A few late strollers moved slowly past the darkened refreshment stand next to the public washrooms. Julia took a shortcut through the trees and came out on the beach, a narrow strip of silver washed by moonlight and the ripples of the lake.
Alone at last.
The air revived her, the silence soothed her ruffled spirits. Out here she could think. Or at the very least, feel.
Let’s face the ugly truth, she thought. You’re just not up to this. But somehow she had to be. Resisting the will of the Shepherd was the same thing as resisting the will of God, and that was unthinkable. That would send her to hell for sure. They wanted her to be a sort of spiritual funnel, making it easier for Ross to enter the Kingdom of God. But after that, what? Go on her way rejoicing? Marry Derrick and sit in the same Gathering with Ross Malcolm every week, trying to ignore the prickly feeling she got every