Page 16 of The Fragile Truth
“How did they get into the building?”
“The best I can figure is that they sneaked in while Melanie Thompson was here, practicing on the organ. She didn’t think to lock the door while she was here.”
“Did Melanie hear anything?”
“No, she was too focused on her music.”
“Should we go and take a look, so I can file a report?”
“Good idea,” Davis answered. Ian assumed they would go in that direction. Instead, Davis motioned to the pews. “First, I’d like to catch up.”
Uh, oh. Precisely what Ian was afraid of. He winced. “I’d love to, but I have a busy day.”
“This won’t take long,” Davis said pleasantly as he ambled over and sat down.
Ian stood where he was for a few seconds before shuffling over and plopping down. When it came to his uncle, it didn’t matter that Ian was a grown man or even the sheriff. Ian always felt like a kid, getting sent to the principal’s office.
“How are things?” Davis began.
“Fine,” Ian answered neutrally.
“I can only imagine what a blow it must’ve been to have Lina resurface and then try and murder Effie.” His expression tightened as he shook his head in sorrow. “It’s hard to believe that anyone would want to hurt Effie. She’s a wonderful person … has been a tremendous blessing for Talon.”
That’s right. Talon and Effie attended church here. Ian’s mom had mentioned that in passing.
Interest sparked in Davis’s eyes. “Have you been able to learn any additional information about Deputy Brent Allen?”
“Not any more than Lina gave us initially. She claims that Brent was shot at the lighthouse the night she disappeared.”
Davis looked thoughtful. “If that’s the case, then where’s the body?”
“I have no idea,” Ian muttered. He didn’t want to go into all of this with his uncle. He began tapping his foot. “I really should be going.”
Davis placed a large, meaty hand over Ian’s knee to stop the movement, giving him a meaningful look. “Brent’s death was not your fault.”
A ball formed in Ian’s throat as he swallowed it back down. Davis had been more of a father figure to him than his old man ever was. The two had been super close until Ian got mixed up with Lina and started pulling away. “I just wish I could find out for certain what happened to Brent,” he muttered.Instead of taking Lina’s word for it, he added mentally.
Davis nodded in understanding as he removed his hand. “Have you thought about praying for help?”
Ian tensed. Why was it that every conversation with Davis turned into a sermon?
Davis searched Ian’s face. “What you’ve been through … first Lina breaking up with you, and then her disappearance, and the attempted murder. These are hard things. You have a right to be upset.”
“Who says I’m upset?” Ian grumbled.
Davis’s expression never changed. “Did I ever tell you about the experience my friend Hayes had while serving a mission in Russia?” Before Ian could answer, he pressed on. “I can’t remember the name of the area, but I suppose that doesn’t matter.” He shifted in his seat before crossing his stout legs. “Anyway, Hayes was walking down the road in a small, remote village. It was bitter cold with the wind swirling snowflakes. He spotted an old woman. Her back was stooped, and she was carrying a heavy cloth bag on her shoulders. He went up and asked in halting Russian if he could carry the bag for her. She grew angry and refused as she trudged through the snow with slow, labored steps. He fell back and watched her from a distance, wondering why she had refused his help. Then, it happened. She stumbled and fell. He ran to her side and again tried to help, but she refused, cursing and crying. Finally, Hayes was left with no other option but to leave the woman in a crumpled heap.”
Davis looked at the mosaic as his tone grew distant. “I’ve often thought about that story and how we’re like the woman. How often does the Savior try to carry our load? But we refuse. We push him away with resentful shouts.”
Ian was unprepared for the moisture that pressed against his eyes. “I know what you’re getting at,” he muttered. “I’ve dealt with my problems the only way I know how.” He crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. He’d held his hatred close for so long that he didn’t know how to let it go. It had fueled him, giving him the impetus to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Now that Sadie had entered his life, he felt some of the angst breaking apart. But he had a long way to go before being healed. He certainly didn’t appreciate his uncle trying to shove religion down his throat.
“I’m sure that’s true.” Davis turned to him, studying him with a contemplative expression. Ian was startled by the sympathy and tenderness emanating from his eyes. Mostly because he’d just noticed a similar expression on the mosaic of Christ.
“In the book of Matthew, Christ admonishes us to come unto him, ‘all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.’”
Tears gathered in Ian’s eyes as he blinked them back. He hunched his shoulders, drawing deeper inside himself. Blast his uncle for opening up old wounds. Why couldn’t the man just leave him be?
Davis touched his arm. “I know that Lina did you wrong. I know that you feel responsible for Brent. But after all is said and done, you have to let it go,” he said gently. “Turn your troubles over to the Lord. He’s the only one who can heal you.” Urgency filled his voice. “But you must have faith and trust in Him.”