JUNE: Father's Day
Location: Goshen, Indiana

BLESSED BE THE TIE

Dane Sorenson spotted the pink envelope right away, sandwiched between two oversized manila ones stuffed into his mailbox. He brought the offending piece of mail to the top of the pile, took a whiff of a flowery scent, and then froze, as though he was expecting someone to be watching. He laughed at himself.

"The church board hasn't had time to place a cover on your mail, yet," he muttered to himself as he went back inside. If he was going to be so paranoid, why not rent a post office box? But in a small town like this, that would be tantamount to posting a warning flag that he was trying to hide something. He tucked the bright envelope into the bottom of the stack and began by opening the letter on top. A bill, of course. Would the bills for his schooling ever end? Not in his natural lifetime, he supposed.

The next piece of mail was more promising and came from a small publishing company expressing interest in seeing his series of articles on beekeeping. It was encouraging, but he knew that the potential sale would pad his ego more than his pocketbook in a market that was notorious for low pay. His idea to supplement his pastor's income with free-lance writing was an optimistic venture at best. He managed to work his way through the seminary by doing odd-jobs for a home improvement firm. He'd done enough minor repairs and installed enough electrical outlets to last a lifetime. But it had been an article on how-to-do-it-yourself plumbing for a home improvement magazine that gave him his first sale and hope that he'd be able to make money writing.

He continued to sort through the rest of the letters, carefully avoiding that brilliantly colored envelope on the bottom. At last, it was the only one left. He looked for a return address for a clue to its origin, but only the name "Anne Edwards" was artfully printed in what looked to be handwritten script across the upper left hand corner. He winced as he again caught the hint of a sweet scent as he slit the flap with an opener. "Dear D. Sorenson," it began. "Thank you for your submission of 'Pray for Love.'"

He stopped reading abruptly, feeling like a fool. It was another turn down, like most of the other attempts, and he was embarrassed to think that he'd sunk this low. Writing for the romance market marked a desperate departure from his usual staid prose and another failure. He crumpled up the page to toss it into the wastebasket, when a phrase caught his eye, "will pay five hundred dollars upon publication. A check will be forwarded to you within the next few weeks." Eagerly his eyes scanned the words and jumped to the signature, "Sincerely, Anne Edwards, Senior Editor, Romance Tales for the Love-Torn." He let the letter drift to the floor, and dropped into the chair behind his desk. He'd done it. Finally, someone wanted to pay him more than spare change for his writing. Five hundred dollars would cover some immediate bills. Hallelujah!

Then a dark thought struck deep, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. What would his congregation think about their new minister as a romance writer? Was that a tar and feathering offense? Did it constitute a moral lapse on his part? Although he knew that his stories were so mild that no one could consider them offensive, still he wasn't sure that it was something a man of the cloth would be admired for doing. He wished he could answer that dilemma, but he couldn't think of a single soul from whom he could seek an answer, except...

"Dear God," he prayed, removing his glasses and closing his eyes, "Give me a sign. Let me know that You approve, or at last understand." He sat quietly, head bowed, until he was startled by the hollow electronic jangle of the phone. The sound seemed out of place in his old-fashioned study, and he blinked as he stared at the beige instrument that had replaced the black hulk of a phone that must have once graced this desk.

"Maple City Church," he answered.

"Dane? You old rascal, is that you?"

He suppressed an urge to say no, but said, "Yes, Leland, it's me."

"Welcome back," was the gruff, but affectionate greeting. "How does it feel to in front of the pulpit instead of lurking behind the basement stairs with a squirt gun, waiting to catch the ladies in horrible hats unaware?"

"I remember our Sunday School escapades as well as you," Dane replied. "That was before the Bible lessons sunk in, at least for me. I suppose you and your squirt gun are still operable?"

"Hey, I've reformed. I'm a respectable businessman with a wife and kids, which is more than you can claim. What's happened between you and Abby?"

"She decided not to wait on a fiancee who planned to attend seminary and then return to minister to the home church. She's been married a couple of years to a very successful corporate lawyer. No kids, though, I hear."

"Amazing how things work out. Old Pastor Donald's ticket to Paradise came along at just the right time."

Dane winced at Leland's cynical view, but knew that was just his way. "I would have been glad to serve as second in command," Dane said. "Old Pastor Donald was only sixty. His heart attack was a shock to the whole town, I think."

"Yeah, I didn't mean to seem heartless, but, hey, guy, I was just trying to let you know how great it is that you're here, now."

"Well, thanks," Dane said, anxious to end the conversation and get back to composing his first sermon in his new position. But Leland had more on his mind.

"I suppose you heard about Beth?"

"Your sister?"

"Yeah, her husband left her when their boy was just a baby. Mark Hansen, you remember? Big football jock? Ran around a lot and broke her heart."

It sounded like a plot of a romance story, and Dane dimly recalled the members of Leland's sister's high school class, a few years younger than his and Leland's own. The husband, Mark was a total blank, but an image of the small quiet blonde who was Leland's younger sister came immediately to mind. "Somewhat," he said. Dane didn't intend to encourage his old friend to give graphic details. They could catch up on old times later, now he needed to get back to work.

"Nasty time for all of us," Leland said, "the divorce and then his dying in an accident soon after. Stevie, that's Beth's son, never even knew his Dad."

Dane didn't reply. If only Leland would get to the point, he thought. And finally, he did.

"Beth's had a pretty rough time, making it on her own," Leland said. "We've all tried to help out, that is, as much as she'd let us. She always was a stubborn little cuss."

Dane's picture of Beth, a tiny little whirlwind not afraid to put her rather overbearing brother in his place, became clearer.

"So what do you want me to do about it, Lee?" Dane asked, finally tiring of waiting for clarification.

"Why nothing," Leland's voice took on the misunderstood tone that Dane remembered was his usual fall-back response. "I just thought I'd give you a little background. Then, if you see that Stevie, or Beth needs a little extra, oh, say, pastoral support, why then you'll already be clued in."

Dane understood perfectly. His old friend was match-making. Probably tired of being rebuffed by Beth for all his interfering and had decided to pair her up with the new pastor, and coincidentally, his old high school buddy. What would Leland think of his avocation penning romantic fiction, he wondered. Not much, he supposed. Maybe this was the sign that he should give it up. Give up writing and paying his bills, too.

On that depressing thought, Dane decided to end the conversation. "Thanks for the information, Lee. I look forward to seeing them as well as you and your family in church on Sunday."

"Oh, we'll be there," Leland told him, "early for good seats. I understand the good ladies of the community - at least they don't wear hats any more - will be out in force come the Sabbath. Having a good woman beside you will protect you from all the fixing up that the old dames will try. Beth's a good woman."

"I sure she is, but I've got to get back to writing my sermon for Sunday," Dane replied, hoping for a quick way to end the conversation.

"Think about it," Leland countered, "Write yourself a happy ending. God helps people who help themselves."

"There's someone at the door, Lee," Dane cringed slightly at the white lie. "I'll see you then."

He hung up, pondering his friend's reference to writing. Happy ending, indeed! Was that the message he'd prayed for? A thump from the front of the house startled him, almost like a bolt of lightening striking the sinner, but he realized that it was actually a knock on the door.

"I must be psychic," he said to himself and went to answer it.

"Pastor," cooed the woman on his front steps, hands clutching a covered dish. "We just wanted to welcome you home. My daughter and I were making pies and thought of you. Nothing like homemade."

Dane gave her an indulgent smile as he thought of his refrigerator, already bulging with donations from other daughters of ladies of the congregation. At least God wasn't letting him starve. He opened the door wider.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Green," he said. "Would you like to come in? I was just starting to work on my sermon for Sunday."

She shook her head and handed him the pie. "Oh, no, Pastor, I wouldn't want to disturb your work. I just wanted to bring this on by. My daughter can pick up the empty dish next week on her way home from school. She's a teacher at Wilson Elementary. Elyce Green, do you remember her? But then, I suppose she was only a child when you lived here. How time flies!"

To cover the awkwardness of the moment, Dane opened the dish and peered inside.

"It's rhubarb," Mrs. Green prompted.

Dane shuddered, but tried not to show it. "Thank you for being so thoughtful," he replied.

At last Mrs. Green was pacified and he could bid her a quick goodbye and make good his escape into the house where he took the pie to the kitchen to join the myriad of home cooked enticements meant to lure him into the bonds of holy matrimony. He shook his head in disbelief as he tried to fit yet another pie in his less than spacious refrigerator. As penance, for considering which parshioner's daughter might provide him with a working wife's salary, he'd return to the den to work on his sermon. Profit motive aside, he still believed in marrying for love. Another of his romantic illusions, no doubt.

He returned to his study to work. Oh, Abby, he thought, why aren't you here to rescue me from all these well-meaning matchmakers. He shook his head. He'd been so sure that Abby was the one for him, that he'd neglected to pay proper attention to the fact that Abby wanted and needed more than he could offer.

Was he selfish to want things the way he'd planned them? When he'd met Abby the summer before he entered the seminary, she'd seemed the perfect wife for a small town minister, and he'd thought she'd felt the same. He'd been so busy preparing for the future, that he'd forgotten to live in the present. That's what Abby had told him when she'd returned the ring. He'd learned later, after she'd left for a new job in the East, when her sister had broken the news that Abby was also getting married - to the lawyer she'd been seeing before her summer romance with Dane. Dane didn't blame Abby; she'd had her own agenda.

But without a helpmate, a minister was at the mercy of the womenfolk in the congregation, each vying to become the mother-in-law of "The Pastor." He was lonely, but he wanted to make his own choices. It wasn't bad enough that all the ladies were matchmaking, now even his old school friend was making a pitch to marry off his sister. Lord deliver us from well-meaning friends, he thought, settling down at last to work on that Sunday sermon. He didn't have answers to his many questions, but he knew that some constructive word weaving was called for now. The congregation would be listening to every phrase uttered by their new biblical lecturer.

Before he knew it, he was facing his first Sunday, which just happened to be Father's Day. Thinking about facing the congregation for the first time put Dane in a most pensive mood. Attendance seemed large compared to the many Sundays he'd come to the church in his youth. He'd be trying to establish himself as their leader and guide to the words of God. He'd also be attempting to turn their attention toward God, the Father, rather than their thoughts of him as father of their grandchildren.

But he loved children, which was good, since the unexpected didn't take long to surface that morning. Mrs. Eldridge, the Sunday school teacher for the kindergarten children was ill with the flu, and no one else could be spared to take over the class. So Dane found himself supervising a group of five and six year olds who were hard at work at the craft table during the Sunday School session just before the church service.

Fortunately, the usual teacher had left all the elements for the project prepared, and it was left to him to show the children just how to assemble the finished product, a gift for their fathers. Some clever folding and a little gluing of construction paper and each child had what looked like a folded man's shirt, complete with a wallpaper patterned tie. Glue sticks in hand, the kids were hard at work on the project.

It was left to him to present the lesson from Miss Eldridge's notes. Dovetailing with his sermon for later, it was entitled, "God, our Father."

"Who can tell us what special day this is?" Dane asked.

"Other than Sunday?" was the first reply.

"Other than Sunday," Dane agreed and waited patiently for the reply.

"Father's Day," answered a tiny freckle-faced girl.

"That's right," Dane said. "This is the day we honor our own Fathers.

And Dane launched into the lesson, reminding them that they could give what they had just made to their own fathers as a special remembrance. At the end of the class, the delighted children, bearing their finished shirt and tie hurried off to find their own fathers. One dark-haired boy with a serious face hung behind, hands clutching his own blue shirt with a striped tie, finally he left. Dane considered going after him to find out what prompted the sad face, but the bell signaled the time for his sermon.

He took a deep breath and headed for the pulpit. He looked out over the attentive faces of his audience and began to speak. Afterward, he breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that the Prodigal could return without dire consequences. He even got through the handshaking at the door, smiling through the obvious attempts by the good mothers of the congregation to introduce their eligible daughters. There was a nagging thought as he bid farewell to the congregation. Leland. He hadn't seen him in the audience, come to think of it, and surely Leland wouldn't have missed the opportunity to come up to shake hands after.

That wasn't like Leland, whose word he could always count on. Dane knew that wild horses wouldn't have kept his old friend from attending that day. But he put the troubling thought aside and continued the meet and greet.

At last,alone in his office, Dane heard a tap on his office door. The door creaked open as he said "Come in," and a small face peered inside.

"Pastor?"

Dane recognized the boy from the earlier Sunday school class. "Hello," Dane said as the boy approached the desk, his class-made gift in his hand, then seemed frozen.

"What can I do for you," Dane asked in a gentle voice.

Finally the boy spoke. "You...you said that God is everyone's father, didn't you?"

"That's right," Dane replied.

The boy stepped up and placed his gift on Dane's desk. "Then I'd like you to give this to God for me. I don't have a Dad."

For a second Dane was taken aback, touched by the childish faith that was sure that he, Dane, had a direct audience with God, the Father. Well, of course, who wouldn't, if he didn't?

"That's very thoughtful of you," Dane said, then paused, trying to work out his answer. "You do know that God is a spirit, not flesh and blood, like we are."

The boy looked puzzled, and asked "But this is God's house, isn't it?"

"That's true, but it's your house and my house,too. God's house is always open to us."

"Then if I leave it here, He'll know where it is, just in case he needs a tie, sometime."

"I'd be honored to keep it for him, here in my office," Dane said, taking the gift in his hand and walking over to the bookcase. "We'll put it here, next to the Bible. Dane was considering what to say next, when the door opened wider. He heard a woman's voice.

"Stevie? Stevie, are you in there?" The woman hurried into the room and went over to take the boy in her arms.

"I'm O.K., Mom. I'm talking to Pastor Sore...sore.."

"Sorenson," Dane responded, "but you can call me Pastor Dane, if that's easier." He smiled and advanced toward the woman, hand outstretched. "Stevie and I were just discussing the Sunday school lesson, he said, smiling at the boy, whose face took on a relieved look. "We didn't realize that you were looking for him."

Suddenly, something about her was familiar and he asked, "I wonder if you aren't my friend Leland Johnson's sister, Beth. Is Leland here? I must have missed him."

Although she returned the handshake, she quickly removed her hand. "Yes, I'm Beth Hansen, but Leland isn't here today." She gave a rueful smile. He and his kids and Stevie were tossing a football around in the yard yesterday. Lee pulled something in his back and couldn't make it out of bed this morning."

"I couldn't believe he'd miss seeing my first sermon," Dane said.

"He hate to miss, and he asked me to explain to you, but Stevie and I ran a little late," Beth explained. "Where have you been, anyway?" she asked her son.

"He just had a question about the lesson," Dane covered smoothly for the boy. "You're welcome, both of you, if you have a question or a concern, for that matter."

Dane noticed a stiffening of her posture and she took her son by the hand.

"Thank you, but we're fine, Stevie and I." The unspoken "we don't need any help" was clear.

"Tell Leland I hope to see him next week," Dane called after her as she quickly left his office with Stevie.

She didn't reply. After they'd gone, Dane picked up the gift that the child had left behind. One thing was certain, Stevie felt the lack of a father, and Beth's refusal to acknowledge any need of help signaled a potential conflict between mother and child. He'd phone Leland next week. Maybe his old friend was right, he might be able to help. But his offer was most likely to be disputed, he knew.

After a pick-up lunch made from the donations of the anxious mother-in-laws-to-be, Dane decided to make a sick call on his old friend. He found Leland's address in the register and noted that it was just a few blocks away, a good excuse for a walk on a pleasant afternoon. Leland's wife's smiling face was somewhat familiar to Dane as she bid him inside and led him to "Old Grumpy" as she characterized her husband in a teasing tone.

Flat on his back on the living room couch, Leland wasn't pleased at his confinement. "I don't mind so much for myself, but I'd promised my boys and Stevie that I'd take them to the baseball game next week I can't picture myself sitting on those hard wooden benches all evening," he said.

Dane got the picture. "I could fill in for you, if you want," he found himself offering. And before he knew it, he'd agreed to be the shepherd for three elementary school boys for an outing to the ball park on Tuesday evening. Oh, well, it was his first opportunity to get involved with the youth of the church, and he did love baseball.

Tuesday came around quickly, and after a pickup meal chosen from the eclectic contents of his refrigerator, he headed off to Leland's house to pick up the boys. He recognized Leland's sons from the Sunday service, but Stevie wasn't with them.

"Where do I pick up the other boy?" he asked Leland, who was still on the couch, remote tucked beside him.

"Aw, Beth thinks he's too young to go. She's just too protective without a man about. Think you can persuade her to change her mind?"

Remembering Abby's stubborn determination that he wasn't able to budge on any front, he hesitated before he replied. "Well, it would be a shame for him to miss an outing with this cousins," he conceded. "Give me her address, and I'll give it a shot."

Leland already had a slip of paper prepared for the possibility and gave Dane quick directions. "That's over off the main drag, just turn left at the Burger King, blue house on the right. You can't miss it."

Dane headed for Beth's place uncertainly. Leland's kids were happy as clams to be going and bantered back and forth among themselves, leaving him time to think. Beth wasn't going to like it one bit, he'd wager. She seemed to have a real chip on her shoulder when it came to men offering any kind of help or advice.

Leland's instructions were simple to follow, and Dane found himself at ease with driving about the old community. Soon he arrived at the small blue house tucked away on a quiet side street. Cautioning the two boys to stay put - with seat belts left on - he went up and rang the door bell. Silence.

He rang it again, and finally rapped firmly on the door. The door opened suddenly, and Beth's voice preceded her face. "It's about time you've come. It's been over 2 hours since I called!"

The surprise on her face when she saw Dane quickly turned to disappointment. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

"Having a problem I can help with?" he asked.

"Not unless you can do miracles with plumbing," she replied with a rueful look.

"As a matter of fact, I can," he told her. "Let me get the kids out of the car and we'll see what's up."

Before she could answer, he had hustled the two boys out of the car and inside the house.

"Just because you're a man doesn't make you qualified," she told him.

"Being a hungry student did," he said. He followed a reluctant Beth as she led him to the kitchen where Stevie sat with a flashlight beamed spotlighting the inside of the cabinet under the sink.

Kneeling down beside the child, he quickly assessed the problem. Smiling, he stood up and turned to his audience. "Piece of cake," he replied.

"Really," Beth's tone had an "oh, yeah!" quality.

"Really. Tell you what. You've got things under control for now; you had the presence of mind to turn off the water, I see. Let Stevie go to the game with us; I'll give you a list of what to buy - that hardware store at the Mall should be open, and when we get back, it'll only take me a couple of hours to make things good as new."

"I've got a plumber coming - sometime," she answered, but just then the phone rang.

Stevie beat her to it, and after listening for a moment turned the receiver over. "He's not coming, Mom," he said.

Beth took the phone and was apparently appraised of the same information. "You win," she said to Dane in a weary voice. "I give up."

"Great," Dane replied, reaching for a pad and pen near the phone. "Here's exactly what to get. Don't worry. I've fixed more leaky pipes than I've preached sermons, so you get the advantage of my evenings and weekends spent under the sinks of some of this state's finest homes."

"Maybe Stevie should come with me," she took the list with an uncertain hand.

"He'll be OK, Aunt Beth," Tim, Leland's oldest son cut in. "He wants to go, and we'll take good care of him, honest."

'Please, Mom!" Stevie was hopping up and down with anticipation.

Even Beth's resolve couldn't stand against the three eager faces. "All right," she agreed. "But someone has to be with Stevie every single minute."

"Guaranteed," Dane said. "We'll be back by five and have you up and running in time to do supper dishes." Without waiting for Beth to change her mind, he and the boys headed off to the car.

Perhaps he had overstated his ability slightly, Dane thought as he struggled to replace the pipe under Beth's sink later that evening. She had reluctantly given him to Stevie's plea to go home for the evening meal with his cousins, and now the silence was deadly as Beth aimed the spotlight on his work area.

But his confidence returned as the last turn of the wrench aligned the pipe. "OK, we're finished here," he said, so that Beth could back out of the way.

"You can turn the water back on," he assured her.

"It's fixed?"

"Yep."

Beth paused for only a moment and then to the cellar. Dane heard the sound of the valve being opened and pulled up the knob for the faucet. Water flowed from the spigot, and Dane breathed a sign of relief.

Beth's voice startled him. "Your prayers are answered."

He turned to grin at her. "I guess so, though I'll admit it was a little tricker than some of the jobs I did."

"The plumbing's old here, like everything else. But it's a roof over our heads. I'm can fix about everything else, but this was a little out of my realm of experience. I really appreciate your help, but I'd like to pay you for..."

"We had a deal," Dane said. "Stevie had a great time at the game, and I brought him back in one piece. I hope you'll let him go with us again."

"I suppose you think I'm an overprotective mother," Beth began.

"I think you're a mother who's concerned for her only child," he replied. "That's natural, but it's also good for Stevie to know that you trust him to be away from you now and then, as long as he's in safe hands."

"I guess Lee told you about Stevie's father."

"Some," Dane admitted, "Lee's looking out for you, and Stevie."

"He's a good brother," Beth replied. "He just gets a little pushy, now and then."

"Part of the nature of things," Dane said and glanced up at the clock on the wall. " I'd better get going. You'll want to pick Stevie up soon, and I've taken longer than I said I would."

"You've missed your own meal time. I can fix us a bite, if you like."

As much as Dane wanted to stay, he decided retreat was the better part of valor. Leave while they still want you to stay. Abby's change of heart was still making him cautious.

"Thanks again," Beth said as he left. "I know Stevie needs to spend time doing "guy" things. Leland reminds me all the time."

"He's good at that," Dane agreed. "See you next Sunday?" It was a question he'd like answered.

"We'll be there."

And they were. The following Sunday, the whole Leland Johnson clan was in their pew for the services, and Dane joined them for an impromptu picnic in Leland's back yard that afternoon. Beth and Stevie came along, and an hour after the meal, the boys joined the neighborhood kids for a romp in the pool, Leland headed off for a nap and his wife shooed Dane and Beth pool side to watch the children while she did kitchen chores.

As they chatted together, Dane was impressed with Beth's quiet enthusiasm as she told him about her love of gardening and the little plot that she had Stevie had maintained for several years. He couldn't help but observe how different she was from the outgoing Abby who had set her sights on her future and cheerfully left him behind.

He didn't blame her for choosing the high-powered life over the simple one that he preferred. It was better that they find out early that they weren't suited, but he was intrigued by Beth's gentle way of expressing her opinions. She wasn't a pushover, that was for sure, but she was considerate of the feelings of others. He wanted to see her again, and not just because of Leland's suggestion. Beth was worth a second look on her own merit. He asked her out for the Friday night concert at the park, and she accepted. He hoped the next week would go quickly.

And it did. By Friday afternoon, Dane was in his study putting the final touches on his speech, when he heard the squeak of the mail box. He sprinted to the door. He'd been hoping and praying for that promised check to cover some bills, and he hurried to check the mail. Sure enough, on top of the letters was that pink and perfumed envelope with the "Anne Edwards" script. Inside was the five hundred dollar payment. He'd splurge and take Beth flowers from the florist rather than a quick bouquet from Kroger's.

But the evening didn't start out well. He'd gotten the fancy flowers, all right, and stuffed them in the refrigerator next to the dwindling supply of matchmaker's dishes, but he'd been delayed on a hospital visit to a sick parishioner, and didn't get to Abby's until just fifteen minutes before the concert began.

They'd had to hurry; drop Stevie off at Leland's, park in the very back row, and spread their blanket in a less-than-choice location close to the concession stand and farther from the band than desirable. Beth had been quieter than usual, and Dane tried covering the silence by talking too much. Finally the "shhs" from others in the audience nearby made him stop. He'd spent the rest of the time trying to hear the band and watching Beth's face in the gathering darkness. The evening finished with fireworks, and Beth dropped a bomb of her own.

"Thanks for this evening, but I don't think we should do this anymore."

They were walking back to his car, and for once Dane was speechless. "But why?"

"I don't think it's a good idea," Beth said in a terse voice.

Dane opened her door and they got in. He didn't start the car immediately. It would take a while for traffic to get moving, and he wanted to fully concentrate on what she'd said.

"I don't understand," he said. "Have I done or said something to upset you?"

"No, but I don't want to talk about it, anymore."

And that was that. Try as he would, he couldn't get her to say more. When he stopped in front of her house, she had opened the car door and hurried away before he could even get out of the car. He was stunned. Even the breakup with Abby hadn't been so unexpected. He'd known Abby was dating someone else before their summer romance and wasn't altogether unaware that she wasn't committed to the same things in life that he was. But he and Beth had clicked somehow, and then she'd just withdrawn without explanation.

He hoped he'd at least see her on Sunday. But although Stevie attended church with Leland and his family, Beth wasn't there. And while Dane was busy fending off the eager mothers of the congregation still anxious to talk about their daughters, Leland and his family left. There was no repeat of the invitation for an afternoon with Beth and the family. What had happened, Dane wondered, to make him so unpopular with the person he'd most looked forward to seeing that day?

By Monday afternoon, Dane had done all the chores he'd set up for himself, made the calls and visits he'd scheduled, and even had written checks to cover the bills that the newly deposited check for the story he'd sold had paid. He stamped the letters and went out front to put them in the mail box for the postman.

Just as he replaced the lid, he heard footsteps coming down the walk. Not having actually met the person who delivered the mail at his new address, he could only stare at the pert face and figure in the summer uniform of short sleeve shirt and shorts.

"Beth," he said. "I didn't know you had this route." In fact, he hadn't known what her job was. It hadn't come up in their conversation, nor had Leland told him.

She shrugged and dug into her bag and handed him a single white envelope. "I'm just subbing for your regular guy this week and last. Sorry, none of the perfumed letters today," she said and turned to walk away.

He paused, having retrieved the outgoing mail from the box, and took the newly arrived envelope into his hand. "Hey," he called after her. "Wait a minute!"

He caught her halfway down the walk. "You delivered that pink letter last week, didn't you? It's not what you think, whatever you think."

'It's none of my business if you get mail so smelly I have to air out my bag," she said. "I just deliver it, anyway."

"You're jealous," Dane said incredulously.

"Am not," Beth said, her cheeks becoming a bit pinker. "But I don't date someone who's involved with someone else."

Suddenly Dane understood. "I would never want to hurt you like you've been hurt before, Beth," he said. "I've been there myself. I'm not involved with anyone, but you. Come inside for a minute, would you, please? I need to explain."

"I can't," Beth protested. "I've got to finish my route on time. Besides, you've got nothing to tell me that I've not already heard - and don't believe."

"I don't think you've heard this one before, but OK, I know you need to do your job. Tell you what. Let me come by this evening and prove to you that I'm telling the truth."

"No way," Beth said and without turning around walked off down the street.

Dane had visions of himself rushing off after her, but he knew that it would only provide more gossip for the neighbor ladies already keeping an eye on every move that the bachelor preacher made from behind the twitching curtains. Slowly he went back inside. He'd been concerned about his congregation finding out about his secret avocation, but he'd never thought it would hurt his chances with the one person who'd become so important to him. Somehow he'd have to find a way to convince her to listen to his explanation.

But it wasn't easy. Beth avoided his calls and returned his letters, unopened. Even Leland was surprised about the way his sister was acting.

"What on earth did you do to her?" Leland asked, when Dane called, hoping for his intervention. "She won't even talk about you."

Dane couldn't bring himself to tell Leland about the letter. It was too embarrassing. He'd have to find another way. So he prayed about it, as he did about everything that was troubling him.

"Lord," he said, "I need some help here. If you think we'd make a good couple, further your work here together, then let me find a way. If you don't, then, I'll have to accept that it isn't your will."

After that, he felt a kind of peace about it. It was as though he'd put it aside to let the Lord work on, for one way or another. So it was, until he received a frantic phone call late one evening.

"Dane, have you seen Stevie?"

Dane glanced at the clock on his desk before he answered. It was nearly ten. There was no way that Stevie should be anywhere but home at this hour! "No" he replied. "Have you called Leland?"

"No," her voice broke on a sob. "That's the problem. Stevie wanted to go camping with his cousins, and Leland, but he had a little cold and I said no. I thought he accepted that and went to bed, but when I just went to check on him a few minutes ago, he was gone!"

"I'll be right there," Dane said, slipping into his shoes. "We'll find him." He hurried about the room, picking up his wallet, keys, and a flashlight. Then, feeling the unseasonable chill in the air, he grabbed a jacket from a hook in the garage and added a folded blanket that had been forgotten on a shelf.

Beth must be desperate to call him, he thought. But with Leland and the boys gone, at least he had been the next on her mind. It was only a short drive to Beth's house, and when he drove up, lights seemed to be on in every room.

Beth was near panic. "I can't understand where he's gone! He's so little to be all alone. Why would he go out?"

Dane took her arm and led her to the sofa and made her sit.

"Let's be logical about this. You say he seemed to accept not being able to go camping. What did he say?"

Beth tried to stop crying and concentrate on her son's words. "He said, he said, 'O.K., but if I had a Dad, he'd let me go.' Then he just went into his bedroom. I heard the T.V., so I left him alone for a while. When I went in to tell him it was bedtime, the T.V. was still on, but he was gone!"

"Did he take anything with him?"

"I...I don't know. I didn't look."

"Let's look."

Beth led the way to Stevie's room. It was small, but filled with the kinds of things that small boys love. A little black & white T.V. was perched on the edge of a desk, and several books had toppled onto the floor. Dane picked one up. "Camping Can Be Fun," was the title.

Beth was poking through the closet. "His blue hooded sweatshirt is gone, and his special tennis shoes." She opened a drawer. "And that Swiss Army knife that Leland gave him for his birthday isn't here where he always kept it. I didn't want him to have it, but Leland said his boys....."

Her voice trailed off, and Dane came over to put his arms about her shoulders. "I think we can assume that he tried to follow the boys on the camping trip. Do you know where they went?"

Beth shook her head. "No, but we can call Alice, Leland's wife. She'll know."

And they did, but the information they got from her wasn't reassuring. The lake that was their usual destination was nearly 20 miles away.

"Stevie's smart enough to know that he wouldn't be able to hike that far tonight," Dane said. "So, it's a safe bet that's he's holed up somewhere for tonight, ready to make a shot at it tomorrow. Now all we have to do is figure out what he'd do tonight."

"But he's NEVER done anything like this before," Beth exclaimed. "I searched the neighborhood before I called you. No one has seen Stevie. I'm sorry to have to get you involved," she said, as if realizing what she was asking of him."

"I'm thankful that you called me," Dane assured her. "I want to find Stevie, and I will. Tell you what. You wait here in case he calls you. He does know how to use a phone, doesn't her? And he does have some money?"

"He calls Leland's boys all the time, and yesterday was allowance day. But I don't understand why..."

"There's time for that later," Dane interrupted. "I need to check a couple of places. I'll call you as soon as I find him."

Dane felt without turning to look at her tear stained face, he wanted so much to turn that sad look into a smile. Dear God, he prayed. Let me be right.

Dane drove straight back to his driveway and parked his car. He took the flashlight and headed for the church just a few hundred feet away. As usual, the door was open. It was the first thing that he'd found out when he came back that was still the same in this small town: it was still safe to leave the church unlocked. But Dane wondered how long that would be possible before the crime and violence of other bigger places infringed on the sanctity of the church.

For now, he still had hope in his heart, hope that this town was still safe for a little boy that had wandered away, and hope that he was right about where that little boy had gone. Dane went to his office. There, curled up on the couch in his office, fast asleep, was the missing child. Nearby, on the bookcase was the shirt and tie that Stevie had made for his Heavenly Father, who even now watched over him.

Quietly, he closed the door and went to another office to pick up a phone. "Beth, I've found him," he told her. "We'll be home in a few minutes."

He didn't tell her where he was, nor try to answer her anxious questions. He merely gathered the sleeping boy in his arms, placed him in the back seat of the car and took him home to her. It would keep until tomorrow, to talk to Stevie and explain why, although God was his spiritual Father, that he had to answer to parents here on Earth.

After they had tucked Stevie, without seeming to wake, into his own bed, they sat in Beth's kitchen over cocoa.

"I don't understand how you knew how to find him so quickly," Beth said, "But I'm also grateful that I knew just who to call. I don't know how I can ever thank you..."

"No need for that," Dane said. "You see, Stevie and I had a talk about God, and how He's our Father. Stevie misses his own very much," he stopped stricken with the sad look on Beth's face.

"I know," she replied. "It's hard to make up that loss, no matter how hard I try."

"You don't have to do it alone," Dane said, taking her hand in his. "It's time to clear up a misunderstanding between us - you know, about my 'secret life'."

Beth's hand stiffened in his, and she would have pulled away, but he wouldn't let her.

"No, you have to hear this. Those letters come from the editor of a romance publication. She bought my story for five hundred dollars. That's my deep dark secret: I'm a struggling minister supporting my religious habit with love stories!"

Beth laughed out loud with relief. "You? A romance writer?" she howled.

Dane tried to look hurt. "Well, I am trying to connect with my sensitive side. Actually, for a preacher that isn't so hard. Compassion is part of the package, you know."

Beth got up and came over to throw her arms around him. "I'm thrilled, actually. I was afraid you were just like all the men I've met since my husband died. They couldn't even talk about romance, let alone write it. I acted like a real witch. Can you really forgive me?"

"Only if," Dane began.

"Only if," she prompted.

"Only if you let me provide a real parental role for Stevie as well as guiding his spiritual life. And, there's something in this for you, as well."

"Like?"

"Like I'm really good at happy endings. Can I write one for us?"

"Absolutely," Beth said as she went into his open arms.

They didn't see Stevie, peeking around the corner, watching them. "Thanks, God," he whispered toward the ceiling. "I guess you can let Pastor Dane take over from here."

THE END