Chapter 13

The next morning Karin was the only one at the door – doors, actually – and was scrambling to get bulletins to everyone who came in. Kevin put his hand on her shoulder, gently, but it held her in place for a moment. "You by yourself, girlie?" he asked.

"Yes – Marta must be sick. Anyway she's not here." And she reached to hand bulletins to a family entering the foyer.

"Here," Kevin said, "give me a bunch o' them things. I'll get that door, and you get this one." He laid his Bible on the foyer table, and held out his hand.

Karin almost told him she'd handle it, but then realized that it would be nice to be able to stand in one spot. "Here you go, big boy. Knock yourself out." And she dimpled herself with a glowing smile.

Kevin hadn't allowed for much time between his arrival and the start of the service, so his labor – if handing out bulletins qualifies for such a strenuous word – was brief. The music started, and he and Karin waved in the last stragglers who were still talking on the sidewalk outside. Once they were inside, bulletins in hand, Kevin and Karin looked at each other. She blew out a breath, upward, that stirred the hair that fell, this morning, over her forehead in gentle waves.

"Get your exercise in today, Kar?" Kevin asked.

"It wasn't hard work, Kevin, but trying to cover both doors was hectic. I tried to catch people, but when you've got a crowd dividing in two..."

Kevin grinned. "Aren't you glad I come along."

"I'm glad you came along, Kev. I'd have survived, but you made it easier."

"There's a verse I remember from a sermon I heard at another church. It's something like carry each other's burdens. Maybe this wasn't a really heavy burden, but I kind o' helped you carry it."

"You did indeed, my friend. I know the verse, and I am grateful to you. Maybe it wasn't a heavy burden – but your shoulders were beside mine, and that's what counts."

They stood for a moment, neither one knowing what to say or do next. Finally Karin cleared her throat. "I guess we'd better get inside."

"Yeah. Here, gimme them bulletins." She handed over her stack. "I'll lay 'em here, since I'm right by the table, and you go in and grab us a couple o' seats."

She nodded, and smiled, and picked up her purse, and went in to find a couple of seats. Kevin followed a moment later. Karin waved him to a seat in the right hand section. It was the rear pew, and she scooted over so he could sit down. He noticed that she didn't scoot very far over – they weren't touching, not quite, but the space between them was less than it might have been. Karin already had a hymnal open, and they shared it as they sang.

And then came the refrain, a refrain that, Karin noticed, set Kevin's eyes to watering:

"That's a really cool song," he whispered to Karin. "If God didn't have grace, I'd prob'ly be dead now."

She nodded, and squeezed his hand as she continued to sing. Tears sprang up in her eyes as well. Grace, she thought, doesn't just touch the really evil ones. Everybody needs grace, don't they? The thought created a tremendous awe in her heart. It was understandable that Christ had to die for someone who'd fought and drugged and bullied his way through life, and it was understandable that grace was a necessity in such a person's salvation. But for grace to be necessary for someone who'd been a good person her entire life, for the death of the Son of God to be necessary for such a person – that meant that even the smallest sin was far worse than she'd ever realized. It's really true – any little sin is still sin, and it'll still send you to hell. And even I sin, don't I? Even I need grace... She resolved that she would work as hard as she could to eliminate sin from her life – not that she could, but that a God who had saved her from sin deserved nothing less.

After the closing prayer Karin turned to Kevin and took his hand. "It's my turn to buy, right?"

"Yep." Kevin didn't attempt to withdraw his hand ... he liked the feeling, actually, of Karin's soft warm skin against his.

"Then I'm going to surprise you. Come on." She stood, tugging on his hand, and he followed. She released his hand as he came to his feet, and used both her hands to pick up her purse and Bible. He stepped out into the aisle, letting her out, and then followed her to her car.

It wasn't following, actually. She led the way through the crowd and out the door, since it was easier that way – especially since they both had broad shoulders – but once on the sidewalk he moved up beside her. She unlocked the Hyundai's passenger door, and Kevin pulled it open and got in while she walked around to the driver's side. The seat was still back from two weeks before, and by the time Karin sat down Kevin had his seat belt on. While she fastened hers and inserted the key in the ignition, he said, "There was time when I thought anybody who'd wear a seat belt was a wimp. I never used to use one, whenever I'd ride in a car."

"What changed your mind?"

"I dunno. It's just that now that I'm a Christian I automatically wear it ... not that I've been in a lot of cars since then."

"Well, if you ride in my car you wear a seatbelt. That's the rule."

"What got you so hard nosed about it?"

Karin didn't answer immediately, for she was backing out of the slot. "I once helped treat a survivor of a traffic accident. There were five people in the vehicle, and only one was wearing a seatbelt. Guess which one survived."

"Yeah, that'd get your attention, I guess."

"It got mine. Five people in an accident, and the only one who's not DOA is the one wearing a seat belt – yes, that got my attention. I don't want to wind up lying by the side of the road while someone else survives."

"I wouldn't want that to happen to you either."

Apparently it wasn't the response Karin had expected, and she spared a second for a glance at her passenger as she followed Menaul toward Tramway. "I guess we're both concerned for my well being."

"If 'well being' means what I think it does, yeah."

"I have been concentrating on your grammar rather than your vocabulary, haven't I?" She smiled, and Kevin frankly admired her dimples, and the metallic blue eye shadow she was wearing. Staring at certain places was wrong, but he couldn't see that an open look at her face was sinful. "Well being is health, basically, though it's a bit more than that. It also involves emotional wellness, and mental health ... basically it's how well one's being is – if that doesn't confuse you."

Kevin's laugh was especially loud in the car, with the windows rolled up against the chilly winter air. "Kar, if you confuse me I'll be a happy man. Your confusion ain't like other people's."

"Then I'll go ahead and confuse you all the time." They were now at the intersection of Menaul and Tramway, and Karin checked the southbound traffic as she pulled into the right turn lane. It was clear for once, and she quickly accelerated to the speed limit of 50 miles per hour, and moved into the left hand lane. "Actually I don't try to confuse you. It just happens, I suppose, because I'm a college graduate and you're a high school dropout."

"Yeah, I quit while I was behind. You know, it wasn't till I started tryin' to read the Bible that I decided I'd been really stupid quittin' school."

"Well, you weren't stupid – but your decision wasn't real smart."

"I dunno – do smart people do stupid things?"

"All the time, Kev. Nobody's perfect, and even a genius can do something really dumb."

Kevin ran his fingers through his beard. "I hadn't thought o' that. I guess you're right."

"Oh, I'm right, Kev. I'm right, I've always been right, I'll always be right."

Kevin's laugh bellowed inside the car. "Oh, man, girlie, you're gonna kill me with that stuff!"