after your walks?” His surprised expression drew an unladylike snort from her, but he didn’t answer. She asked again, “How do you pass the time all by yourself?”
“Not even Rita has asked me what I do with my evenings. When she and Ray visit, we play Scrabble or dominoes, or watch some DVD they bring along.”
She waited while he gulped the rest of his juice. He slanted a sheepish grin. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
She bit her lip and raised her eyebrows, but didn’t respond.
“I write poetry,” he answered in a low voice.
“What kind?”
“Some call it cowboy poetry.” One side of his mouth quirked down. He lowered his eyes. “That means it rhymes.” So he wasn’t reticent on paper.
“What’s it about? The range, cattle, stuff like that?”
“And more. To me it’s what I know. And feel. God seems bigger out here. Or maybe I feel smaller.”
“He sure made me feel small the first time I compared my carefree world to the mistreatment so many children have suffered.”
“You can’t feel guilty about that. You have a big heart. God chooses the families and places for us to be born into.”
She bounced to her feet and took three steps, which brought her nose-to-nose with the window glass. When would she shake this off? This getting her dander up whenever Creighton talked about God? Why were her reactions so close to the surface? It was more than her seclusion. Where was the control that had always been second nature to her? That uneasy, sick undercurrent of wrong swam in her gut again. How could she return to her job as a leader, a person for young people to turn to? She shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to rid herself of the source of her pain. The misery remained.
Creighton’s breath brushed over her hair and his gentle touch warmed her shoulders. “Things won’t calm down for you until you let it go, Shana.”
Her shoulders slumped. Her voice broke, “But, I’ve never felt so out of my comfort zone, like I have no control. I had my whole agenda in place and wasn’t going to do anything about completing my degree for several more months. A couple of those kids need me. My whole foundation has been messed up.”
“I can understand how you feel. I’ve been there. Guilty because you’re not doing what you’re responsible for. But guilt doesn’t come from God, Shana. Instead, He draws attention to our sinful nature. Trust Rita and the rest of the staff while you’re gone. Finish what you came here to do.”
Shana slid away from Creighton’s touch. “You’d better go. Maybe God works for you, but I haven’t seen Him work for me.”
She tried to work. She really did. But what entered her mind shattered and scattered. She needed to call her dad. Tomorrow.
Deep inside, she knew something was going on at home.
****
Creighton’s stomp through the night didn’t release the hold Shana had on his senses. She had looked so lost, staring through the glass. “How do I reach her, Lord?”
The resident great-horned owl seemed to echo his query, with a mournful cry that sounded like a “how” rather than a “who.”
“You won’t spook me into running.” He relived the time just spent with Shana in her cabin. Her body was as taut as a new electric fence wire. He wanted to spend more time with her, which made no sense. He lived here on the ranch to avoid tense, money- and power-driven people. All he wanted was a simple life, with no hassles.
Shana was so filled with agitation that it affected him when he was near her.
Underneath the emotions that she revealed, he knew there lay a talented, giving soul.
Rita had shared some of the situations they ran into with the youth at the lock-down facility, how messed up the kids were. They all needed the leadership that Shana provided. He had witnessed her fight to hold herself together, to avoid any appearance of weakness.
What was it about her that wouldn’t let him go? That thought jump-started his heart as
“Not even Rita has asked me what I do with my evenings. When she and Ray visit, we play Scrabble or dominoes, or watch some DVD they bring along.”
She waited while he gulped the rest of his juice. He slanted a sheepish grin. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
She bit her lip and raised her eyebrows, but didn’t respond.
“I write poetry,” he answered in a low voice.
“What kind?”
“Some call it cowboy poetry.” One side of his mouth quirked down. He lowered his eyes. “That means it rhymes.” So he wasn’t reticent on paper.
“What’s it about? The range, cattle, stuff like that?”
“And more. To me it’s what I know. And feel. God seems bigger out here. Or maybe I feel smaller.”
“He sure made me feel small the first time I compared my carefree world to the mistreatment so many children have suffered.”
“You can’t feel guilty about that. You have a big heart. God chooses the families and places for us to be born into.”
She bounced to her feet and took three steps, which brought her nose-to-nose with the window glass. When would she shake this off? This getting her dander up whenever Creighton talked about God? Why were her reactions so close to the surface? It was more than her seclusion. Where was the control that had always been second nature to her? That uneasy, sick undercurrent of wrong swam in her gut again. How could she return to her job as a leader, a person for young people to turn to? She shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to rid herself of the source of her pain. The misery remained.
Creighton’s breath brushed over her hair and his gentle touch warmed her shoulders. “Things won’t calm down for you until you let it go, Shana.”
Her shoulders slumped. Her voice broke, “But, I’ve never felt so out of my comfort zone, like I have no control. I had my whole agenda in place and wasn’t going to do anything about completing my degree for several more months. A couple of those kids need me. My whole foundation has been messed up.”
“I can understand how you feel. I’ve been there. Guilty because you’re not doing what you’re responsible for. But guilt doesn’t come from God, Shana. Instead, He draws attention to our sinful nature. Trust Rita and the rest of the staff while you’re gone. Finish what you came here to do.”
Shana slid away from Creighton’s touch. “You’d better go. Maybe God works for you, but I haven’t seen Him work for me.”
She tried to work. She really did. But what entered her mind shattered and scattered. She needed to call her dad. Tomorrow.
Deep inside, she knew something was going on at home.
****
Creighton’s stomp through the night didn’t release the hold Shana had on his senses. She had looked so lost, staring through the glass. “How do I reach her, Lord?”
The resident great-horned owl seemed to echo his query, with a mournful cry that sounded like a “how” rather than a “who.”
“You won’t spook me into running.” He relived the time just spent with Shana in her cabin. Her body was as taut as a new electric fence wire. He wanted to spend more time with her, which made no sense. He lived here on the ranch to avoid tense, money- and power-driven people. All he wanted was a simple life, with no hassles.
Shana was so filled with agitation that it affected him when he was near her.
Underneath the emotions that she revealed, he knew there lay a talented, giving soul.
Rita had shared some of the situations they ran into with the youth at the lock-down facility, how messed up the kids were. They all needed the leadership that Shana provided. He had witnessed her fight to hold herself together, to avoid any appearance of weakness.
What was it about her that wouldn’t let him go? That thought jump-started his heart as