Creighton's Hideaway by LoRee Peery Page B

forgiveness and slips back into his past on occasion.”
    “Is that why he comes off as moody at times?” Shana sipped her own tea and toyed with the idea of snatching another cookie off the plate trimmed in cobalt-blue.
    “I’m sure that’s part of it. But you’ll have to ask him. Actually, I think he needs to talk some things out.” Valerie finished her tea, picked up a cookie, and folded her legs underneath her long skirt. She plumped a pillow and rested her back against the arm of the couch before turning to Shana. “Speaking of which, do you need to talk things out?”
    “Don’t we all? Rehashing those stark interviews with troubled youth made me consider the pampered way I grew up.” Shana breathed deeply and on the exhale looked out the window. “Sometimes I just want to be a little girl again and cuddle up on my daddy’s lap. I always felt safe and secure around him. I loved spending hours on end in his office in Oldfather Hall on the Lincoln city campus.”
    Shana stared off into the distance, her mood matching the mist that now blanketed the land. “But when I got into college, I saw how much he’d sheltered me. I had a talk with myself about finding my own job and doing things on my own.”
    Encouraged by Valerie’s smile, Shana paused and decided to continue. “I didn’t have to make a lot of choices that other kids do while growing up. Even when I started classes at the university, Dad set up advisor appointments and took care of a lot of paperwork I should have done for myself.”
    “Nothing wrong with learning independence,” Valerie commented.
    Shana shook her head. “I have no idea why I’m even saying this! Maybe it’s the gloomy weather. I’ve been going over my notes. People in recovery grew up in environments hard for me to imagine. For some reason I feel guilty because I had it so easy and was oblivious to the home life other kids may have had growing up.”
    “God watches over all His children.”
    “I’ve faced my own shallowness.” Shana tapped her drying teabag against the saucer, ignoring Valerie’s comment about God. “Now I need to stop beating myself up and figure out how to make a difference once I have degree in hand.”
    “You know, Shana, we can only go so far on our own. I reach the end of myself on a daily basis and then have to rely on a strength far beyond my own.”
    “If you’re talking about God, or the Lord according to Creighton…I don’t want to go there.” Shana focused on the soft blues and browns of the quilt hanging on the opposite wall. She could almost hear the tick, tick, of passing time.
    “Are you musical?”
    Shana blinked at the change of subject, and admired Valerie’s flexibility as she rose up on a knee and reached over the sofa back to the table. Settling a black hymnal on her lap, she opened it and looked back at Shana.
    “Did I imagine that I heard you humming soprano this morning?”
    “No, you didn’t imagine it. Beethoven. I had never heard the words before.” Shana stood up to stretch the kinks out. “I sang in choral groups when I was in high school and college.”
    “Then you read music. Creighton has placed a hymnal in all the cabins. When your heart is heavy, turn to the index for a list of titles under worship.” Valerie’s smile reflected the serenity of the quilt. “You might be surprised how many lyrics refer to nature. I’ll bet your heart will be lifted. Do you enjoy singing?”
    “Oh, I do. I haven’t taken the time lately.” Shana nodded at the book where Valerie’s sun-freckled hands rested.
    Valerie opened the hymnal and scanned a page. “Here’s one. The lyrics include nature words—rocks and trees, skies, birds, morning light. These hills heal the spirit. I am so thankful to come and reap the benefits of this place.” The older woman turned the book so both could see the score. Valerie began to sing.
    Shana joined in on the second verse. By the time the song was finished, a lovely