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Letting Go

By June Foster

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But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead. Philippians 3:13


Chapter One


Pastor Zackary Lawrence slammed his Bible shut and pressed his head in his hands. Even the subtle mint green walls of his office at Oak Mountain Bible Church didn't afford comfort. An office he'd no longer occupy in twenty-four hours. He jammed his hands harder against his temple and moaned. Why had he tried to read the scriptures this morning? What was the use? He'd failed God too many times for the Lord to comfort him today.
Shoving his leather chair back, Zack paced the perimeter of the small workplace. The colorful throw rug on the hardwood floor muffled the clop of his heeled loafers. His finger, like the needle over an old vinyl record, traced a path along the walls. He sniffed. Fresh paint fumes still lingered in the room. What good had it done to remodel the pastor’s office six months ago? Had the church benefited? Not when the preacher was no longer fit to serve after failing his wife, unborn child, the congregation, and ultimately God.
Nothing to do now but clear out his desk and pack the books he'd poured over during endless hours in seminary. Maybe he should donate them to the preacher at the community church. Zack would never use them again.
The boxes Mr. Longhauser gathered were stacked in the corner. The Godly man who'd been the first to offer grace when Zack confessed his indiscretion to the hiring board after he graduated. The man who reminded the others how Zack had always been expected to take over the pastorate when Pastor Thomas retired. If it hadn't been for Mr. Longhauser, the board might not have hired him.
Zack glanced at the envelope on the bookshelf. The certified letter he'd opened then flung from him like a poisonous spider. Shouldn't have come as a surprise, though, since Mr. Longhauser had warned him they'd soon receive notification from the bank about the foreclosure. The announcement delivered a blow, knocking Zack to the ground. Only thing, he never got up again.
The sign with the service times was propped up against the wall opposite his desk. A sardonic laugh spewed from his lips. "Not next Sunday, sorry." Nor on Wednesday night. How could they have a meeting with the bank's takeover looming? He'd let the young people down and the middle agers and the elderly of Oak Mountain, Alabama.
Zack snatched a fist full of books from the shelf and tossed them into a box. Then a few more. Shuffling toward the desk to empty the drawers, he winced. On top, his notebook still sat open.
He picked up the small, hard-backed book and glanced at the words he'd written only an hour ago. "My life fell apart that day. God, it doesn't seem fair that Sandra had to leave the earth like she did. And my son. He never had a chance. How do I deal with this regret?"
Odd. He'd only written the word regret. What about the pain of loss? He shrugged, sank into the chair, and flipped a page to the day before. "Getting her pregnant then not being there for her when the blood clot took her life," he continued in eerie retribution.
"I have nothing left to give." Zack ripped the last several pages from the binding, crushed them in his hand, and paced the room again.
The space closed in on him, and he stormed out and down the hall to the sanctuary. Determined not to shed unmanly tears, Zack fell into the first pew and lifted a painful gaze up at the wooden cross behind the pulpit. "I'm sorry, Lord. I never wanted Sandra to die. If I'd only been there, maybe I could've saved her."

~

Ella Clair Russell shuddered with the cold January wind whipping around her face. She opened the outside door to the pastor's office with her key then stepped inside, ready to dust. She drew a sharp breath at the empty shelves, the missing plastic in and out boxes, and the absence of the papers she usually stacked. She'd heard the church might close, but she hoped it wouldn't be for a couple more weeks. Time to explore options to keep it open, if possible.
Through the window, the sun dipped low on the western horizon. She would've come sooner, but after the first day back to work at the high school after the Christmas holidays, she had to catch up on paperwork.
Ella trudged out of the office to the closet next door and grabbed the bucket filled with glass cleaner, furniture polish, and cleaning cloths. With the other hand, she juggled the broom and the attached dustpan. She'd vacuum the sanctuary later.
The pastor's desk sat under a wide window looking out on a patch of forest beyond. She stopped a moment, peering out. Leafless maple, hickory, and oak trees stood as sentinels awaiting spring when foliage would adorn them again.
Since the church couldn't afford a janitorial service, volunteering to clean two months ago had required a lot of her spare time, but then she did it with joy.
Turning back to the pastor's desk, she drew in a deep breath. Zack's masculine scent of sandalwood and musk lingered.
She closed her eyes and breathed in another long whiff. Against her will, the image of the boy who'd stolen her heart all those years ago in high school drifted into her memory. The young man who'd ministered on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings in their youth group and spoke at the weekend retreats.
Those days, she'd tried to finagle ways to become part of his life. But he never took an interest in the skinny little girl with blond hair, other than treating her like a sister in the Lord. The Zackary Lawrence she knew today was nothing like her youthful friend.
Ella opened her eyes and ran her finger over the chair where he'd written so many good sermons after he accepted the pastorate. She hummed "You Know My Name," a song Zack used to sing in the worship services. His soft tenor had resounded throughout the sanctuary. But he hadn't performed since Sandra died, and he'd turned the worship over to the organist.
The furniture polish bottle sputtered and no liquid sprayed despite pressing the button. She hadn't seen another in the closet so when she cleaned next week, she'd bring her own. After dusting Zack's diplomas, which still remained on the wall, she sprayed the windows with glass cleaner and wiped with paper towels from her personal supply she'd stowed in the closet.
The hardwood floor and small area rug were never a problem. She swept, gathering the accumulation of dust and several small scraps into a pile. Crumpled paper lay closer to the wall. Ella leaned over and picked it up, lifting her fist to toss the debris into the garbage can.
What if it was something important, and Zack hadn't intended to discard it? She opened the wad and smoothed out two sheets the same size as a small notebook, like a diary or a journal.
Zack's scrawl filled a portion of both pages. Though it was probably something he hadn't intended for others to see, she couldn't resist reading on. It might give a clue to the dramatic change she'd witnessed in her long-time friend.
The words "I have nothing left to give" made her shudder. She knew he was at a low spot, but those words sounded as if he'd given up in defeat.
Losing one's spouse and child must've devastated him, but people heal in time. Maybe six months had made no impact on the process.
Biting tears stung her eyes as she slowly wadded the papers and dropped them into the garbage can. "Lord, show me how to help this brokenhearted man."
Ella gulped. When Zack returned from seminary with a wife, she'd given up all hope he'd ever be hers. Once again, she needed to accept the truth.
Replacing the cleaning bucket in the supply closet, she tugged the vacuum out and rolled it down the hall to the sanctuary. Across the room in front of the altar, Zack knelt, his fingers interlocked in a prayer position. Had she imagined the moan from his lips?
His light brown hair parted in the middle fell to either side of his forehead. Though his lids were closed, she could envision his crystal blue eyes that carried more pain these days than a thirty-year-old pastor's eyes should. His shapely lips moved with the silent words he no doubt spoke to God.
She took a few steps back, not wanting to disturb him, and collided with something behind her. A chair thumped against the wall.
Zack scrambled to his feet. "Ella?"
"Yeah, just me." Her face heated. Hopefully, Zack didn't think she was spying. "I was cleaning your office."
He took a few steps toward her. "Thank you for coming up here week after week. Mr. Longhauser and I both appreciate it."
"I'm happy to help." She pinched her lips together so she wouldn't verbalize her next thought. Besides wanting to serve the church, cleaning offered another chance to see him.
"Counseling students at the high school all day then spending some of your extra time here must be tiring. Dad's not working you too hard?"
"No, of course not. Your father's one of the best principals in the state."
Zack glanced toward his office. "I'm sure you'll be glad to know you won't need to clean any more after today. You can leave your key on my desk."
Though the good-looking man always made her pulse race out of control, his words sounded too final. "So it's official?" Ella covered her mouth, not wanting to believe the truth.
"Yeah. In a few days, the church will go up for sale."
 

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