Paradise Recovered: Book One of the Camiel Chronicles

By Timothy Spar

It is 1997 when C. J. Aldermanns world is shattered with the tragic deaths of his wife and two children in a church parsonage fire. After eight years of serving the Hope Springs community as pastor, CJ is now empty and broken. With his fathers ranch and pulpit waiting for him in Paradise, Wyoming, CJ drives away without any idea that angels are watching over him.

Ten years later, CJ is living with his mother on the Wyoming ranch when new neighbors move in next door. Widowed pastor Shannon Hutchins and her disabled teenage daughter, Julie, raise service dogs and need their roof replaced before winter sets in. After CJ offers to do the repairs for the beautiful and feisty redheaded pastor, angels intercede and help bring them together in love and faith. As they face a wanton killing of livestock and a life-threatening snowstorm, CJ and Shannon battle to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. But what they do not realize is that God has a few miracles in store for them.

Paradise Recovered shares the inspirational tale of two pastors who somehow find each other and love in the middle of Wyoming with help from angels determined to carry out the Lords plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491797907

Timothy Spar

Timothy Spar has spent the majority of his career in the furniture industry. He holds pastoral studies and biblical studies degrees from Northwestern College in Arden Hills, Minnesota. Timothy and his wife, Denise, live in Wharton, Texas, where he enjoys reading, writing, fishing, and cooking. Paradise Recovered is his debut novel.

Book preview

Prologue-1997

CJ dug the toe of his cowboy boot into the ashes that were days before the church parsonage porch. All that remained standing was the stone fireplace, its blackened chimney mocking him as it pointed to the blue Wyoming sky. The fire began in that chimney from years of creosote build-up igniting and burning all that surrounded it to the ground. The blaze carried over to the town’s Baptist Church before anyone could respond, and it too was lost to the flames, its charred pulpit pointing to the same blue skies.

Lost in the flames were his beloved wife of eleven years, Rebecca, and their two children, Justin-seven, and Ashley-three. Tomorrow they would be laid to rest beside his father in Paradise and the irony didn’t escape him. Four days previous, he’d kissed Becca and his children goodbye, leaving Justin as man of the house to watch over his mother and sister. He returned to his parent’s ranch in Paradise, and along with his mother, drove to the hospital in Laramie, to be with his dying father. He sat and held the hand of the man that never accepted his wife and children— a hard man, but his father nonetheless, and waited with his mother at his side, until the cancer stopped Isaiah Aldermann’s heart. Two hundred and twelve miles east, his sleeping family passed to eternity, their ashes scattered into the Hope Springs night, while CJ Aldermann, the Captain of the Hope Springs volunteer Fire Department, said goodbye to his father—the humorless, judgmental, ‘all is black or white’ Pastor of the Paradise Community Church.

Brown eyes glared at the mocking chimney. How many Saturday afternoons had he intended on climbing to the roof to give it a thorough brushing? But there were sermons to prepare, and children to play with. Shopping trips, quiet evenings fishing with his son… No one could have predicted the parsonage furnace breaking down, or the early frost the night it happened. Rebecca had built the fire to keep her and the children warm through the night, and their charred remains were found huddled under a blackened blanket in front of the hearth. The County Coroner reported to CJ that they’d died peacefully in their slumber, with Rebecca’s arms wrapped around their children.

Well, thank God for small favors! CJ shouted angrily to the blue skies and surrounding ashes.

After eight years of serving the Hope Springs community as pastor and friend, he now stood empty and broken. His father’s ranch awaited, as did the Paradise pulpit, emptied by his father’s passing. Continue to preach? While he’d agreed to take his father’s place, he did so only until a suitable replacement could be found, and not a moment longer.

CJ removed his Stetson and wiped his forehead and face with his bandana, then climbed into his pickup parked in the grass. His throat tightened and he fought back the tears that threatened. He found his cigarettes on the dashboard, lit one and blew the smoke out his passenger window as he looked for a final time to his destroyed Church and home.

All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be… he whispered softly, quoting Psalm 139. Well Lord? You could have left this chapter out…

As he drove his truck back onto the County road, he never looked back, but forced his eyes forward, his muscular hands nearly bending the steering wheel. Winged denizens stood in the home’s ashes, with arms crossed over timeless breastplates, and watched his hasty retreat.

I’m assigned to this one going forward. Raphael said softly, his gentle eyes trailing the truck cresting a hill. And you have your orders?

Gabrielle nodded, prodding a charred brick with her sandaled toe.

Sioux Falls. Events there are building. As always, I don’t know the exact time line, but I’m to be prepared. I can’t imagine being Camiel, and experiencing their pain. Perhaps it’s a blessing she still sleeps…

Uziel and Michael will watch over her. Raphael said, nodding slowly. "Our sister slumbers unaware— she’s one of them now and will awaken when our Father chooses. Until then, we have our orders.

It strikes me as funny… he continued, smiling and shaking his head. Paradise, Wyoming. Camiel is responsible for their Church. Wouldn’t she be surprised at what will unfold?

Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed as she turned to find her impish brother flying somersaults over the blackened chimney.

She’d better be surprised! She’s not to awaken for many of their years from now! Don’t get any bright ideas, Rafe!

No worries! I’ll be too busy hiding CJ’s sermon notes. You really need a sense of humor, Gabby!

Chapter One

—October, 2007

CJ stomped the slushy snow from his boots before stepping into the mud-room. He hung his jeans-jacket and Stetson on the wall pegs and walked into the kitchen, where the scent of bacon and coffee lingered in the warm air.

Mornin’, mama… he mumbled, as he poured himself some coffee and eyed the two fresh pies cooling beside the stove.

Mornin’ yourself. You were up early… Problem with the horses? Helen Aldermann asked while loading his plate with scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits. She set the plate in front of him, refreshed her mug, then sat slowly across from him, nursing the pain in her hips. CJ’s lips moved with a silent prayer of thanks, then armed with his fork, attacked the plate like one that hadn’t eaten for days. Helen sighed and massaged her arthritic hands while staring out the kitchen window at the large, swirling snowflakes carried by the wind.

The horses are fine. he said, between mouthfuls. I stabled them last night because of this pesky early season snow. Should be all melted by this afternoon. Oh— and your prize sow gave birth last night. Blessed us with eight little ones— well, seven…one I found dead. I was up early mending the fence on the northeast end of the ranch. That wind two nights ago blew over a pine and took out a stretch.

He paused, belched, and took another gulp of coffee. Oh—and we have a visitor. Found a Golden Retriever pup shiverin’ outside the stable door. Can’t be but eight to ten weeks old. She’s in with Winnie, warmin’ up.

He pushed his empty plate away and looked up to find his mother smiling at him.

What? I got egg on my face or somethin’?

She giggled and took his plate to the sink. No, CJ. Your face is fine. After you feed the stock, I’ll need you to run that pup and these two pies over to our new neighbors. They moved into the old Larson ranch yesterday. Mary told me it’s a widow woman, the one that’s to be our new Pastor, and her daughter. Her daughter’s in her late teens and in a wheelchair, and they raise service dogs—Golden Retriever and Labs mostly. Said they train ’em for the physically disabled and all… Those pies are a welcome gift and I’m bettin’ that pup is one of theirs.

CJ’s eyes narrowed as he folded his arms and stared at her back. Mary told you all that, huh? I don’t suppose she told you the woman’s shoe size or her driver’s license number. Busy-body!

He pulled a tattered pack of cigarettes from his flannel shirt pocket and shook one out.

Larson place, huh? That’s a lot of land for raisin’ dogs. I hope to God she had them fix the roof before signin’ any papers. Why two pies? They expectin’ company?

Helen rinsed his plate and set it in the drying rack before turning back to him.

Well, you’ll be company! And do not even think of lighting that in here! If she offers you a slice, please take more than ten seconds to eat it! I don’t need our new neighbors thinkin’ I raised a wolverine. And I’m sure they’ll have other company visitin’ with her bein’ the town’s new Pastor and all.

CJ tapped his cigarette on the table to tease her.

You know Daddy’s probably rollin’ in his grave, hearin’ you say that… he said as he walked back to the mudroom for his jacket and hat. A woman Pastor? He’d have nailed the church doors closed first!

She watched him with her arms crossed while he slipped on his boots and grabbed the pies.

Yes, CJ, I’m sure he would have… she said softly. But he wouldn’t have to if someone else, like his son, stood up and took the job.

CJ bumped to porch door open and lit the cigarette clenced in his teeth. Really Mama? That’s all you’ve got? God showed me how important my preachin’ was. Lookin’ for another fire?

She stood at the kitchen window and watched him walk towards the stables.

No fires, CJ… I just want my son to forgive himself…

After wrapping the still damp pup in a blanket, and closing Winnie’s stall door, CJ carried his wiggly parcel to his pickup and gently deposited her to the space behind his driver’s seat. Three miles later, he turned into his new neighbor’s long drive and was greeted by a chorus of barks coming from an out-building refurbished to kennel the dogs. The pup’s shrill yelps answered the canines’ greetings as he pulled to a stop in front of the farm house porch. A young woman rolled her wheelchair down the new ramp from the porch, with a Golden Retriever in tow as he removed the puppy from behind his seat.

Gherkin! She squealed, dropping the adult dog’s lead and opening her arms to accept the tail-wagging bundle. You found Gherkin! Naughty girl! Thank-you so much. Where was she?

Outside my stables, three miles down the road from here. CJ said, happily handing her the pup. She must have smelled my horses. Um… your mama home?

Oh— She’s home, alright! The pretty blonde nodded, and clipped the lead to the pup’s collar. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her yelling from our kitchen over the dogs. You’re not a roofer, are you? ’Cause brother, we’ve got leaks!

CJ laughed softly, and shook his head as he picked up the pies from his passenger seat.

No ma-am. I’m a rancher by trade— horses. But I can patch a roof in a pinch. I’m CJ Aldermann, your neighbor down the road. Mama baked these pies as a welcome gift to you and your mama. Is it okay if I bring them inside?

The young lady’s green eyes sparkled with mischief as she rolled her chair up the ramp to the porch.

Long as you’re ready for Armageddon. I’m Julie— Julie Hutchins. I’d shake your hand but prefer my pie on a plate and not my lap! Let me get the door.

Julie held the door open and followed him into the kitchen.

Mama! We have company!

CJ set the pies on the only open space left on their counters, careful to not get tangled in Gherkin’s leash. Boxes were piled everywhere in the dining and living rooms, and a series of plastic buckets were strategically placed to catch the water that dripped from the ceiling. He whistled softly to himself and began making a mental list. ‘Shingles, ladder, plywood, tarp, nails…’ A voice shrieked from a back room, and interrupted his thought.

Tell them we’re not home! No, I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to my daughter. Apparently the local ‘Welcome-Wagon’ just arrived. No! I will not wait until next Tuesday, ya freakin’ weasel! Our roof is leaking now!

CJ winced and avoided Julie’s eyes. He thought of quietly excusing himself to head to town for their needed supplies, when he heard the voice shriek again.

Son-of-a-bitch! He hung up on me?? Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus! Julie! Tell our company that we’re not ready for visitors and call 911! I’m going into town to choke the living shit out of our Realtor! And please tell me you’ve found Gherkin…

The voice began in one of the home’s back rooms and carried down the hallway and ended at the kitchen’s edge. CJ watched as the disheveled, tall, attractive redhead appeared, startled to find him in her kitchen. Her hands flew to her mouth, and then to her plaster-speckled hair.

Well… Crap! Next time, Julie, you might want to be more clear… the woman said, shook her head and brushed plaster from her shoulders and jeans. She forced a smile and crossed through the stacks of boxes to shake his hand. I’m Shannon Hutchins. You’ve obviously met my daughter Julie— and apparently Gherkin.

CJ Aldermann. Pleased to meet you. CJ said, shook her hand and fought back a smile. Um…that wouldn’t be ‘Pastor Hutchins’, would it?

She sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled, red hair, and shook bits of ceiling plaster to the floor. That’s the rumor. Of course, it remains to be seen. Seems there are those that don’t take kindly to a woman Pastor… You’re not one of them, are you? Ceee-Jay… That your name or your initials? I’ve known a few ‘CJ’s’. I knew a Ceejay in college, but he was from India, and brother, you look a whole more like cowboy!

She looked up to find him staring out the porch door, nervously spinning his Stetson in his hands.

I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t offended you. she said, and dropped her hands to her to her side. Sometimes I talk too much. Guess I’m nervous meeting a new neighbor looking like this…

CJ turned back to her with a gentle smile. You look just fine, Miss Shannon. Plaster becomes you. And yes, they’re initials. Clarence Jebidiah. Try growin’ up with that name on the school playground. And to answer your first question, First Timothy, chapter two, verse three— I do not permit a woman to teach or have authority over a man; she must be silent. I think scripture is pretty clear on the subject.

Shannon laughed lightly and shook her head. Got us a Bible quotin’ man here, Julie! I think I’m going to like you, Ceee-Jay! And I’m so sorry to hear that you never eat pork, shrimp, or lobster. After all, our Heavenly Father made it ‘pretty clear’ they were unclean and forbidden in Leviticus chapter eleven. I personally can do without oysters or rabbit, but those other three? I think I’m droolin’ over here…

CJ’s eyes narrowed and his fists began to clench. Those laws were given for the Israelites’ own good; you have to know that. And besides, Christ abolished those laws. Galatians three, verses twenty-four and twenty-five— So the law was put in charge to lead us to Christ that we might be justified by faith. Now that faith has come, we are no longer under the supervision of the law. Got a snappy comeback for that?

They were interrupted by CJ’s cell-phone chirping on his belt. He recognized the number and answered immediately. Mama? Everything okay? You’re not calling about Thunderstruck, are you? He asked with a look of worry on his face.

Shannon waved Julie into the living room to give him some privacy and sighed. She looked to the ceiling and then to the seven buckets scattered about. She knew her new neighbor was the former Pastor of the Church she’d be leading and had heard through the grapevine that it was his vote that brought her here for her ‘trial’. She’d noticed his wedding ring, but her earlier reports indicated he was a widower that had moved in with his mother, to work their ranch after his father’s death. Six foot-four, lean and muscular… and dreamy brown eyes. And the ‘Great Wall of China’ surrounding his heart. Her thoughts were interrupted by his tapping on the door frame.

Mama would like to invite you two over for dinner tonight. Nothin’ fancy. She said you could bring the pup if you want. We’re the first ranch, three miles down to your left as you head towards town.

He paused and nervously began spinning his Stetson in his large hands again. Anyways… Sorry if I was rude just now. Sometimes I talk too much, too. I’m goin’ into town and get you some roofin’ supplies. I’ll get some tarps over it this afternoon and see about replacin’ shingles tomorrow. If my mare doesn’t decide to foal between now and then…

Shannon wasn’t sure what to make of his nervousness and the way he avoided her eyes. Was he hoping they wouldn’t accept? Was he really against a woman preaching? Then why vote to bring her here? He didn’t appear to be anxious about her daughter’s wheelchair…

What time? she asked, trying to not sound reluctant.

CJ lifted his puzzled brown eyes to her questioning blue, and stopped spinning his hat.

How in the world would I know what time? If I could predict when a mare would foal, I’d be the richest horse rancher in Wyoming!

Julie giggled and nudged his thigh with her elbow. I think she means ‘what time’ is dinner—lunkhead!

His eyes dropped from Shannon’s striking blue to Julie’s melting green and he blushed.

Oh… about six-thirty should be fine. I gotta go. I’ll be back with those supplies in an hour or so. Ladies.

He tipped his hat and walked quickly out their porch door. Julie giggled again and moved her chair to the porch door in time to see him trot to his truck.

What a funny guy… Shannon said, shaking more loose debris from her hair. If he spun that hat any faster, he might have taken flight. Do you think I made him mad with my scripture rebuttal?

Julie laughed out loud this time, and shook her head as she wheeled out the porch door.

No, Mama. You’ve been out of circulation waaaaay too long! He was nervous because he thinks you’re cute! Maybe even a knockout. Get yourself cleaned up for dinner and you might find him stuttering. I’m taking Gherkin out to the kennels to work with her awhile. Stay dry!

Shannon walked wearily back into the living room and began emptying the buckets into the one closest to the rear door. She caught her reflection in a shuttered window and studied her features—she’d never considered herself ugly, but cute? Her blue eyes looked tired, with the faintest of circles from lack of sleep. Her thick red mane was tangled, speckled, and in dire need of shampoo. There were too many laugh lines, too many freckles, and her full lips, while seemingly seductive to some, thankfully covered her oversized teeth.

Maybe that’s why he thinks you’re cute… she whispered to herself softly. You remind him of one of his horses…

CJ pulled his pickup into the town’s local Hardware/Lumber/Feed store lot and sat frozen in his seat; the keys jingled in his hand. Shannon’s red hair— her sky-blue eyes— and the way she teased him. Ceeee-Jayee… He could almost hear Rebecca’s teasing taunt. A single tear found its way down his wind-weathered cheek. What in the world was happening? Why her? Why now?

Lord Jesus, I’m not ready for this… He whispered, stepped out of his truck and wiped the tear from his cheek. He was nearly to the store’s door when Rebecca’s voice came to him with a soft breeze.

It’s been ten years, Clare. If not now— when?

He looked around in frightened confusion. Holy crap! What’s going on?

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Raphael chuckled as he rearranged the wrenches, and mixed up their order.

Looks like the stage is set. Nice job on Becca’s voice, Gabby! That was spot-on!

Gabrielle pulled him away from the tool aisle by the tip of his wings.

Must you always cause trouble? If you were human, you wouldn’t find it funny to drive twenty miles into town for a half-inch wrench, only to find back at your ranch that it’s a seven-sixteenths. We’re here on a mission, and we don’t have time for your games!

Raphael huffed and crossed his muscular arms across his ebony breastplate.

Okay—’Grumpy-Gabby’! Get up on the wrong side of the Nebula? What’s so important about these two? I could be having more fun with Michael in Afghanistan.

Gabrielle looked down at his charge and sadly shook her head.

You and Uriel have traded off with this one for the last ten years; trying to break through. Shannon’s the key, and it’s our Father’s purpose that these two come together. And I’m to inform you that we have but weeks to make it happen.

Raphael flew down and playfully knocked CJ’s Stetson to the floor.

Weeks!? Seriously? I know His time approaches, but what’s the rush?

Dearest Rafe… Gabrielle patted his shoulder with false sympathy. His plans are His plans. Why don’t you go ask Him? We’ll have weeks here and then I’m to transfer back to Camiel— to watch over her until her awakening. When we’re successful here, you’ll return to help Michael. The sooner the better— Michael’s plate overflows with the new troops they’ve sent over.

A playful grin spread across Raphael’s face and he began laughing to himself, causing Gabrielle to sigh and shake her head.

Whatever is so funny? Please tell me you plan no antics with these two. As I said, our time is short!

Raphael laughed again and poked her shoulder.

No antics-I’ll behave. I was remembering the last time I was with Michael… this ‘Taliban’ young man thought he was bringing thirty pounds of C4 to one of their strongholds and didn’t know that I switched it with bricks of goat dung. You should have seen their faces when they opened his pack!

Gabrielle couldn’t help but giggle. Goat dung… Father, help us!

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Ninety minutes later, CJ anchored the last of the tarps in place and cautiously worked his way down the farmhouse roof to the ladder. Upon closer inspection, he’d found that patch-working new shingles into place would be a waste of time and money. Nearly all the shingles cracked and crumbled under his boots, and he’d found three large areas where the supporting lumber threatened to buckle. And now he had the glorious task of informing his new neighbors of the costly bill awaiting them. He found them both in the designated kennel building, with Julie working with Gherkin and three other dogs, while Shannon patiently wormed a brood of six Black Lab pups, whining for their mama.

You’ve finished already? Shannon asked, looking up from her squirming bundle. So— how bad is it? Should we be contacting an attorney?

CJ pulled the Stetson from his head and ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair.

Miss Shannon? An attorney might help in the long run, but I can tell you right now that getting any money out of your Realtor, Bill Hanson, will be about as easy as changin’ this Country’s Constitution. It’s as bad as it gets. The entire roof needs to be replaced— not just the shingles, but the underlyin’ framework as well. And it needs to be fixed before winter sets in. It will never last another season with the snowfall we get around here. Sorry to be the one bearin’ bad news…

Shannon simply sighed and exchanged her medicated pup for another. Well, welcome to our world, CJ. I don’t suppose you know anyone around here that can do the job and what it might cost?

CJ did some mental calculations in his head while spinning the Stetson in his hands.

Best guess? Twenty to twenty-five thousand. That’s for manpower and supplies. Best thing to do is tear off what we need to, to see if any of the original framin’ can be saved.

He was surprised at her calmness. She nodded as if told it might rain, and scooped up another puppy. She’d brushed her thick hair and fixed it in a pony, and he noticed for the first time that she still wore her wedding and engagement rings on her left hand. Didn’t his mother say she was a widow? And if not, where was Mr. Hutchins? His answer came with her reply.

CJ would roll over in his grave if he knew we walked into this mess. Well, thank God for State Farm life insurance. she stood and brushed off her jeans. That’s right— my husband’s name was CJ, or at least his nick-name was. Charles Joseph Hutchins… I’d be eternally grateful if you could procure the help needed, Mr. Aldermann. You’re the only one I’ve met here, other than the pulpit committee. Oh— and the odiferous Mr. Hanson…

CJ noticed the tears welling in her blue eyes and his heart sank. Yes ma-am. Absolutely. I’ll have a proper crew here by tomorrow mornin’. I’ve got to run home to check on my mare and drum up that help. See you both for dinner. Oh— and Miss Shannon?

Shannon looked up to find his brown eyes reflecting her pain. Yes, CJ?

I am truly sorry for your loss. He nodded, touched the brim of his hat and left them.

Julie watched her mother as she wiped her eyes and stared at the door CJ closed behind him.

What a funny guy… she heard her whisper.

Yeah. He’s funny. And a twenty-four carat hunk!

Shannon planted her hands on her slender hips and turned to her daughter. Julie Hutchins! He’s old enough to be your father! What are you thinking?

Julie spun her chair around to face her mother. She crossed her arms and tried to hide her smirk.

What? Gross! I didn’t mean for me, Mama. But for someone, say, as ‘ancient’ as you…

Shannon’s jaw dropped and she felt the blush spread across her face. Me? Thanks, but no thanks! CJ Aldermann might be incredibly good looking, and a gentleman to boot, but the man has luggage. And I’m not sure I want to know what’s in those bags.

Julie giggled and tossed a ring of keys to the straw-strewn floor for Gherkin to retrieve.

Maybe… she said, and continued her tease. But I’ll bet you’re wondering what he’s got packed away in those Levis!

JULIE HUTCHINS!! Shannon screamed and sailed a pair of leather work gloves in her daughter’s direction.

Chapter Two

Clarence Jebidiah Aldermann kept himself busy. He released his main herd of horses out to pasture, then spent the next hour cleaning out their stalls. After checking on his prize mare, Thunderstruck and finding her still not ready to foal, he strode over to the pig shed to check on their sow and her new piglets. There he found seven, plump, pink water-balloons with curled tails, cuddled up beside their mother who lay dreaming of ripened cornfields.

Earlier, after making multiple calls, he was able to round up a work crew for the Hutchins’ roof. His best friend Scotty, a local building contractor, and five others would meet him at the ranch at daybreak to begin the arduous task of tearing down and rebuilding the roof. ‘At least there’s no snow or rain in the forecast for the next week…’, he thought to himself, as he stepped out of the pig shed and into the gathering twilight that overtook the rolling hills.

He lit a cigarette and his thoughts returned again to his new neighbor… Five foot-nine, thick, flowing red hair and captivating blue eyes. She was all but the opposite of his Rebecca. She had been Native American, Cherokee by birth, barely five-foot tall with long, straight black hair, an hour glass figure, and warm, yet piercing brown eyes. But they had similar smiles— smiles that would stop a man on the street. He sighed and shook his head to clear the cob-webs and looked to his wide porch steps. Julie would need a ramp, and there was plywood and two by fours in his work shed.

Well… he mumbled quietly to himself as he trudged through the slushy mud, keep busy or let Mama hound you with more questions. Is she pretty? How did her husband die? Why is her daughter in a wheelchair? How old is she?.

CJ ground out his cigarette and pulled open the work shed door. For the love of Pete, Mama— ask her yourself…

After helping Julie in and