“Oh, yes.” She fumbled with the strap of her purse, then took a single step toward the hall, not sure why she was feeling so self-conscious. “Miss Abigail’s so full of wonderful stories. Did you know she was once in love with a soldier?”
Jeff nodded. “Edgar.”
“That’s right.” She let out a small sigh and resisted the urge to take another step. “Such a tragic story.”
As though he’d just realized he’d been staring at her, Jeff blinked, then glanced down at the phone he still clutched in his hand before slipping it into the holder on his belt. “Are you doing okay?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” The way he looked over her shoulder, avoiding her gaze after having focused so intently on her, she realized he seemed somehow—unsettled. “Are you sure there isn’t something you’re not telling me?”
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darted back and forth across the room before taking a sudden interest in the floor. When he finally glanced up at her again, his eyes held that familiar sparkle. “Nothing important.”
“You sure?”
“Sure.”
“Then why are you here on your day off?”
“I, uh, needed some papers from my desk. Since everything is under control here, I’m going to head back to the apartment and see if I can’t finish up the fund-raising numbers for John Haskell.”
“That man is a slave driver. But if you tell him I said so, I’ll swear you’re lying.”
The comment hit its intended mark and made Jeff chuckle. “Yeah, well. He’s my slave driver, so I’d better get moving. Let me know if anything important comes up.” Jeff headed for the door. Stopping short beside her, he reached over and touched her hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Before she could say anything in response, he was out the door—empty-handed.
Glancing down at her hand, she could still feel the warmth of his touch. “What the heck just happened here?”
This changed everything. Jeff wasn’t sure how long he sat in his car, unable to look at anything but the church building. There was no denying it. No talking himself out of it. Somehow he’d fallen in love with Pamela Sue.
Staring at the door, as though answers would appear from heaven like the Ten Commandments on stone tablets, wasn’t getting him anywhere. He needed to get away, to think.
A short drive on open road had always done wonders for clearing his mind. But there wasn’t enough time. He’d promised Haskell the stupid reports by morning.
Turning the ignition, he dragged his gaze away from the church and took a deep breath. He longed for the comfort of his childhood home, and his mother’s smiley-face chocolate chip cookies. But that wasn’t an option either. The last thing he needed now was to face his insightful mother and have to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself.
His insides churned with confusion, doubt, and fear. Should he ignore his feelings? Move on with his plans? Forget Pammy Sue had ever walked into his life?
Or did he dare take on a new life with this woman at his side? From his time with Pam, he was fully aware she was still in love with her husband, or at least the memory of her husband. Could Jeff find a way to bring her to love him as much? And if he couldn’t? What would it be like to live with a hole in his heart? To carry on from day to day having given a piece of himself to someone who didn’t want it?
Pictures of a life somewhere else, without Pam, alone and busy, a repetition of the last few years played grimly through his mind. The vision left him cold.
On some sort of subconscious autopilot, with no recollection of traveling down the small town streets, he’d driven to his apartment. He didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Climbing the stairs, a brighter image flashed through his mind: Pam, sitting on a twin bed in a pastel painted room, wearing jeans that hugged her curves just enough to make him look twice. A blonde curly-haired little girl snuggled on her lap. Jeff beside her, one arm draped possessively around his wife, reading from a colorful picture book.
Warmth filled his senses, made his nerves tingle. He wanted this. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, he wanted her.
He could hear the phone in his apartment ringing from down the hall. Hurrying, he unlocked the front door and practically lunged across the sofa, grabbing the handset just as his answering machine kicked on. “Hello.”
“Jeff?”
Who else did this person expect to answer his phone? “Yes.”
“John Haskell here.”
“Oh, Mr. Haskell.” He didn’t want to deal with this man. He had more important things to work out. “I’m almost done with those numbers for you.”
“With the growth we’ve seen in Hope’s Corner this past year, fund-raising is the key to keeping up with the needs of the community.”
Pam had it right. The man was a slave driver. “I understand. I’m almost finished. I should have them for you by morning as promised.”
“Good, but that’s not what I’m calling about.”
Jeff didn’t care for the righteous tone Haskell had taken. He wasn’t up for another lecture. Not now.
“Tried your cell phone. Went straight to voice mail. Not good for a pastor to be out of reach of his parishioners.”
Flipping his phone open, Jeff quickly scanned the incoming calls. John Haskell at 3:22 and 3:31. How did he miss those? “Sorry, I must have accidentally turned down the ringer.”
“I heard you had lunch today with Sandra Quinn.”
“Yes.” He took a short deep breath in an effort to control his tone, hide his exasperation with the board member. “She’s volunteering with the elderly program. Today we took Mrs. Perkins to see an endocrinologist.”
“Jeff, you’ve done a good solid job of stepping into your father’s position. Until this week, not a day had gone by that anyone on the board regretted their decision to not bring in outside help.”
Please Lord, not now.
“While I’m sure your intentions were honorable—”
Jeff’s patience was running thin. He wondered if the old man would drop on the spot if he interrupted him and said no, he was looking for a quick roll in the hay?
“I thought we made it clear,” the man continued, “that a single man such as yourself, especially at your age—”
At my age?
“Needs to be more thoughtful of how he spends his spare time. None of us see any harm in your wanting to court a woman—”
Court? It was lunch! And the wrong woman.
“But it doesn’t look right so fast on the heels of your dinner date Thursday night.”
A soft word turneth away wrath. He knew that and at the moment didn’t care. “No, sir. I can see where, to someone with impure thoughts, the situation could be misinterpreted.”
“Uhm, yes, well. I realize that young folks don’t see the need to worry about appearances, but we need to hold ourselves to a higher standard.”
“Yes, sir. Of course we do. And I think Sandra’s giving back to the community by sharing her special skills as a nurse sets an excellent example for the church.”
“It’s not Miss Quinn’s behavior that is casting shadows on our community, Jeff. We can’t have it appear that our pastor is taking advantage of the single women in the congregation. Perhaps you should consider inviting someone along, a chaperone of sorts, next time you want to thank a female parishioner with a meal.”
Taking advantage? A chaperone? How had he not previously noticed the board had such an archaic mind-set? Not that it mattered. Soon the board would no longer be his problem. And with a little time and patience, hopefully he wouldn’t remain a single a man. “Yes, sir.”
“Now I realize the board has yet to meet regarding your father’s permanent replacement—”
“What?” Permanent? Surely they weren’t going to fire his father because of his heart condition? The church was his father’s life. Jeff had done his level best to fill in for his dad. Except for the Jenny debacle, he’d thought things
had gone well. It was only a few more weeks till the doctor would allow his father to return to work part-time, and then soon he would be senior pastor again. Couldn’t they wait a little longer? “I don’t understand.”
Haskell cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought your father had discussed this with you.”
“Discussed what?”
“Your father’s decided it’s time to retire. Turned in a letter of resignation.”
“He can’t do that,” Jeff muttered softly. This congregation needed his father, and Jeff needed to move on.
“We thought you knew. Son, he’s recommended you to replace him.”
CHAPTER TEN
“You don’t have to worry about feeding me, Etta. With all the leftovers from yesterday, I could eat like a queen for a month.” Pam helped Emily pick out a different colored marker.
“Believe you me when I say you’re a blessing from heaven.” Etta Mae pulled a jar from the refrigerator. “I couldn’t get a thing done with the princess running about on full throttle. Harlon has to have his dinner at exactly five-thirty, or he goes into grizzly mode.”
“I don’t believe for a single minute that such a sweet man has even one grouchy bone in his body.”
Etta’s hand froze over the pot of homemade spaghetti sauce. “Dear, everyone has a grouchy bone. The trick is making sure they forget where it is.”
Laughter erupted unexpectedly from someplace so deep inside Pam, she’d forgotten she knew how. And it felt good. Etta Mae brought out the best in everyone. The woman was an eternal optimist. “Well, I’m glad I could help out.”
“I’m just thankful little Emily is so taken with you. When I heard your car door slam shut in the drive, I knew you were the answer to prayer.”
Pam had a hard time thinking of herself as the answer to anyone’s prayers. But she was glad after she’d gotten home from work to see Etta Mae scurrying up her walk holding Emily in one arm and waving with the other.
Today’s visit with Miss Abigail had left Pam thinking all day of the love she once had, would never have again. She was dreading walking into her empty house. A little time with the Parkers was a welcome reprieve.
“If you don’t mind dear, could you set the table?”
“Sure.”
“Set it for four. I have a high chair for Emily.”
“Four?” Nothing ever rattled Etta, but for just a few seconds, Pam would have sworn Etta seemed flustered by the question, but why?
“Yes.” Etta quickly recovered. “We might as well set an extra place in case my Jeff comes by.”
“Four it is.” Pam shrugged off her curiosity, and settled Emily in the high chair with a small plastic bowl and some Cheerios. Satisfied the little girl was suitably entertained, she pulled four sets of silverware from the drawer.
“I know I shouldn’t.” Etta lifted the lid on the boiling pot of water. “But I worry about that boy.”
Pam glanced over her shoulder at Etta. “Worry?”
“He should be dating, looking for a wife, planning a family.”
“Jeff had lunch with Sandra Quinn today.”
“Oh?”
“I think she’s sweet on him.”
Etta measured out several handfuls of spaghetti and fanned them into the pot. “Hmm. Yes, I got the same impression.”
“Maybe she’ll be the one.”
The odd, almost pained expression on Etta’s face surprised Pam. This wasn’t good. That little bit of information should have made Etta happy. “I think they’d make a nice couple.”
“Why, yes, of course.” Etta flashed a strained smile. “Sandra’s a lovely lady.”
Walking around the table, Pam set a knife and fork at the first place setting and wondered what to make of Etta’s odd behavior.
“But,” Etta paused and blew at a spoonful of sauce. “Jefferson needs a different kind of woman than Sandra. Someone who shares in his roots in the community. With a strong sense of family.”
Pam stared at the silverware in her hand. Just in case Jeff stops by. A queasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Surely Etta didn’t have some misguided delusion that Jeff and she could somehow… She stole a quick glance in Etta’s direction. Uh-oh.
Etta tasted the sauce in the large wooden spoon. “I got a chance to visit with Sandra at lunch the other day. Did you know she’s an only child? Raised by her mother. No father figure.”
“No. No, I didn’t.” Pam put down another knife and fork, and took a deep breath, wondering where Etta was going with this. “Her mother must be very proud of her. It couldn’t have been easy raising a daughter alone.”
Her brows drawn together, “Hmm,” was all Etta Mae said.
If Etta was not only discounting Sandra as a potential wife for her son but thinking of playing matchmaker for Pam and Jeff instead, she needed to set the woman straight—and fast. “You know, Etta Mae, if I were in the market for a man, which I’m not, I’d hate to have his family judge me by my crazy family. Maybe you should give Sandra a chance?”
“Do you think I made enough?” Etta sprinkled another condiment into the simmering pot.
Apparently, for now, the topic was closed. As much as she’d like to think otherwise, Pam was willing to bet big bucks the crinkle still set in Etta’s brow had nothing to do with the sauce. Unsure if she’d made her point or not, Pam glanced at the huge stockpot. There was enough sauce to feed the entire Dallas Cowboys' cheerleading squad. “I’m sure there’s plenty.”
“Mother,” Jeff’s voice boomed from the other end of the hall. “Where is he?”
Etta wiped her hands on her apron and squared her shoulders. Her grin frozen in place. “Jeff, dear, how fortunate we set the table for one more.”
“I’m not here for dinner.” His heavy steps stomped toward the kitchen. “I’m looking for…” His words trailed off the moment he crossed the threshold and spotted Pam standing by the table.
“We have company for dinner,” his mom said. “Pam is such an angel. I was overwhelmed with Emily and trying to fix supper for your father. She’s a treasure to keep the baby busy for me.”
With the speed of a pinball machine, his eyes darted from his mother, to his niece, to Pam, and back. The stern set of his mouth told Pam whatever he was thinking, it probably wasn’t meant for mixed company.
“I should really be getting home. I have some laundry to catch up on.” Pam walked over to Emily and ran her fingers gingerly over the baby-fine hair. She should be the one thanking Etta. It was wonderful sharing time with such a sweet baby. Another thing she’d never have of her own.
“Nonsense.” With a definitive nod that said, Don’t argue with me, Etta resumed her position stirring the sauce. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’m sure mother’s made enough food to feed an army.” Jeff blew out a deep breath, and the starch in his stance seemed to evaporate. “Can’t the laundry wait?”
“Of course it can wait.” Etta didn’t give Pam a chance to say no. “I’ll go get your father.”
“No.” Jeff took another step into the kitchen. “I’ll go get him. Is he in his study?”
Etta hesitated a moment. Pam was convinced she was going to voice an objection, but instead she gave a quick nod, and turned to the butter and garlic spread sitting in a bowl on the counter. “Everyone will have to eat at least one piece of garlic bread, or there’ll be no kissing tonight.”
Jeff almost swallowed his tongue. His mother was going to be death of him yet. Although his father was running in close competition.
What was his father thinking? Retiring so young. He wasn’t even sixty-five yet. No preacher of his dad’s caliber ever stepped down before he was too old and frail to stand and thump a Bible. Heck, he’d even seen some men preach sitting down rather than give up their congregation.
Jeff’s steps drew to a halt at the sight of his father sound asleep in the well-worn leather wingback chair. Before the heart attack Harlon Parker had seemed invincible. Now he looked every one
of his sixty-three years and maybe a few more.
“Pop?” He approached his father’s favorite reading spot quietly. When the old man didn’t stir, a single spark of panic shot up his spine. “Pop?” he called a little louder.
Nothing. By the time he reached the chair, Jeff’s heart was racing like a metronome on speed. “Pop?” He lightly touched his father’s arm.
“Nott. Noww.”
The disgruntled mumble was like music to his ears. “Supper’s almost ready.”
Barely turning his head, his father began sniffing at the air. A slow, steady grin eased across his face. “Smells good,” he mumbled more clearly without opening his eyes.
“Yeah, it does.” Jeff ran a nervous hand through his hair and snuck a glance out the window. Where to begin? “Can we talk a few minutes?”
Sitting up straighter in his seat, Harlon Parker reached for his glasses. Jeff could see the slight change in his countenance, the one Jeff had come to recognize as the arrival of Pastor Harlon.
“Sure, son. Whatcha got on your mind?”
“I think you know.”
“John Haskell call you already?”
Jeff nodded.
“I thought he might. I know I probably should’ve said something to you before I called him, but once I made up my mind, I saw no need in putting off the inevitable.”
“Why, Pop?”
“It’s time.”
“No, it’s not. These people need you. Your relationship with them is irreplaceable, your experience invaluable.”
“I listened to you yesterday morning in rapt attention. I actually forgot you were my son. Forgot that used to be my job. You’re good. A little young but that helps the younger folks relate to you. I could see them intent on your every word the way I never saw them listen to me. When even the elders of the congregation nodded and whispered amen, I knew it was time to step aside. It’s your turn now, Jeff.”
“It’s not my turn.” He hesitated a moment, searching, praying for the right words. “I’m not called to lead these people. As soon as you’re well enough, I’m moving on.”
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