WWJ News van.”
Collin turned to verify; the spade he held fell from his grasp.
“What the...”
“Also meaning she's back in Detroit permanently. Stephanie and I ran into her at a friend's house this past weekend at a barbecue. She's working at WWJ radio now.”
Collin's heart raced, not out of pleasure or anticipation, but anxiety. “And WWJ is interested in Woodland because we're so incredibly newsworthy?”
We. He had said we . Where exactly had that inclusive statement come from?
Fortunately, Marty didn't comment on that but instead replied, “Sandy's started attending services here again. So, she's gotten wind of the fact that all of this improvement comes as the result of a parishioner leaving the bulk of his estate to the benefit of his church. She took that story back to the station, and the rest is apparently history. Now WWJ is doing a story on Woodland for their Community Focus program. Sandy's its director now.”
At present, Sandy was hidden from view by a production crew and Pastor Ken who led her away, taking her on a walk around the grounds. While Collin watched in trepidation, Marty squatted next to him in front of the brick lined edge of the flowerbeds that lined the church entry. In an assembly line of sorts Marty tilled, Collin dug holes, and the following team planted flowers.
Taller perennials were placed to the back, shorter, sturdy annuals to the front. Collin didn't know phlox from rocks, but the end result transformed barren grounds into a riot of perfume and color. Another group filled large brown terracotta tubs at each side of the church entrance with petunias in all sorts of pastel shades interspersed with white.
Every once in a while Collin hazarded a glance over his shoulder, but Sandy's back remained to him. Despite two years apart he easily recognized the gentle wave of red hair. She still wore it shoulder length. Slim, jean clad, of average build but dynamic, appealing features, Sandy turned to profile as she and Pastor Ken began to walk in tandem. Nope. She hadn't changed much at all.
They were headed straight to Daveny, which made perfect sense, but Collin's pulse went haywire.
When they stepped up, Daveny concluded a conversation with the head of the team commissioned to complete the wood engravings now that the bridge was in place over the pond. Introductions were exchanged and Collin's panic index went off the charts.
Returning his efforts to the job at hand, Collin did his best not to overreact, but the effort was futile. The final group of helpers in his group gently laid and smoothed a layer of protective wood chips.
Marty continued the thread of their conversation. “Apparently, Mom saw her at services this past weekend.”
Sandy and Collin had attended church here before...well, before .
Inwardly he sighed. “Really? Well, I'm sure she's glad to be back home.” Collin hoped the finality of his tone would guide Marty toward a new topic of conversation.
No such luck.
“Col, you should at least talk to her. Mom said Sandy seems kinda lost. No, unsettled. Yeah, that was the word she used. Unsettled.”
Perfect. Just what Collin needed. Guilt with a side of well-intended, conscience-provoking motherly influence.
Jeremy, the family's second-to–the-youngest, stepped up. He looked over Collin's shoulder and checked his progress. “Marty, stop gossip-mongering. Sheesh.”
Collin grinned to himself, grateful beyond measure for Jeremy's timely arrival and interruption. “Hey, JB. The lilac tree looks great.”
Freshly planted with his help, it resided just to the right of the bridge. It would take a year or so for the fragrant blooms to burst free, but it would be a perfect augment to the gently arched structure. The pine bore that fresh, bright sheen of un-scarred wood, light and glowing beneath the midday sun. That was the trouble with wood, and life, however. Sooner or later chips, creases and wear marks would develop. An overall dimming.
“Food's on,”
Collin turned to verify; the spade he held fell from his grasp.
“What the...”
“Also meaning she's back in Detroit permanently. Stephanie and I ran into her at a friend's house this past weekend at a barbecue. She's working at WWJ radio now.”
Collin's heart raced, not out of pleasure or anticipation, but anxiety. “And WWJ is interested in Woodland because we're so incredibly newsworthy?”
We. He had said we . Where exactly had that inclusive statement come from?
Fortunately, Marty didn't comment on that but instead replied, “Sandy's started attending services here again. So, she's gotten wind of the fact that all of this improvement comes as the result of a parishioner leaving the bulk of his estate to the benefit of his church. She took that story back to the station, and the rest is apparently history. Now WWJ is doing a story on Woodland for their Community Focus program. Sandy's its director now.”
At present, Sandy was hidden from view by a production crew and Pastor Ken who led her away, taking her on a walk around the grounds. While Collin watched in trepidation, Marty squatted next to him in front of the brick lined edge of the flowerbeds that lined the church entry. In an assembly line of sorts Marty tilled, Collin dug holes, and the following team planted flowers.
Taller perennials were placed to the back, shorter, sturdy annuals to the front. Collin didn't know phlox from rocks, but the end result transformed barren grounds into a riot of perfume and color. Another group filled large brown terracotta tubs at each side of the church entrance with petunias in all sorts of pastel shades interspersed with white.
Every once in a while Collin hazarded a glance over his shoulder, but Sandy's back remained to him. Despite two years apart he easily recognized the gentle wave of red hair. She still wore it shoulder length. Slim, jean clad, of average build but dynamic, appealing features, Sandy turned to profile as she and Pastor Ken began to walk in tandem. Nope. She hadn't changed much at all.
They were headed straight to Daveny, which made perfect sense, but Collin's pulse went haywire.
When they stepped up, Daveny concluded a conversation with the head of the team commissioned to complete the wood engravings now that the bridge was in place over the pond. Introductions were exchanged and Collin's panic index went off the charts.
Returning his efforts to the job at hand, Collin did his best not to overreact, but the effort was futile. The final group of helpers in his group gently laid and smoothed a layer of protective wood chips.
Marty continued the thread of their conversation. “Apparently, Mom saw her at services this past weekend.”
Sandy and Collin had attended church here before...well, before .
Inwardly he sighed. “Really? Well, I'm sure she's glad to be back home.” Collin hoped the finality of his tone would guide Marty toward a new topic of conversation.
No such luck.
“Col, you should at least talk to her. Mom said Sandy seems kinda lost. No, unsettled. Yeah, that was the word she used. Unsettled.”
Perfect. Just what Collin needed. Guilt with a side of well-intended, conscience-provoking motherly influence.
Jeremy, the family's second-to–the-youngest, stepped up. He looked over Collin's shoulder and checked his progress. “Marty, stop gossip-mongering. Sheesh.”
Collin grinned to himself, grateful beyond measure for Jeremy's timely arrival and interruption. “Hey, JB. The lilac tree looks great.”
Freshly planted with his help, it resided just to the right of the bridge. It would take a year or so for the fragrant blooms to burst free, but it would be a perfect augment to the gently arched structure. The pine bore that fresh, bright sheen of un-scarred wood, light and glowing beneath the midday sun. That was the trouble with wood, and life, however. Sooner or later chips, creases and wear marks would develop. An overall dimming.
“Food's on,”
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