The Welcome Committee of Butternut Creek

by Jane Myers Perrine

  But that would come later, after they’d served everyone who dropped in for the meal. Across the counter, Mattie cleared and wiped tables. Janey, with her hair decorated in orange barrettes, stood by the desserts and smiled every now and then.

  “She’s a lot happier. Thanks, Preacher,” Hector whispered. “She’s feeling safe.”

  The high school basketball season had begun nearly six weeks earlier. Hector had a great start, leading the team in rebounds. A few scouts from small colleges had come to look over the senior center and had been impressed by Hector, only a junior. What would they do with Janey while he was in college? She could stay at the parsonage. Both she and Hector could call that home.

  But Adam didn’t need to consider that now. People were waiting for mashed potatoes.

  “Pick up that nearly empty pan so I can exchange it.” Mac shoved him aside. Sweat rolled down her forehead. The temperature today had reached eighty by noon and seemed about one hundred with the heat from the ovens. Finally, at two, the line closed and the servers fixed themselves plates.

  After the volunteers cleaned up, Hector and Janey headed to the basketball coach’s house for a get-together, so Adam was on his own. He wandered through town reflecting on how thankful he felt, how blessed he’d been to end up here. For a moment, Adam considered heading to Sam’s house, but he was spending the day at Winnie’s with his father and Willow and the boys. Nice for all of them.

  After a few more blocks, he realized he was only a football field away from the pillar’s house. She’d done so much today. With the bad shoulder she attempted to hide from everyone, Adam wondered how she felt. As her minister, he should check and thank her for her service. Adam wouldn’t tell her he was concerned about her. She’d hate that.

  Once in front of her neat little cottage, he took the steps to the porch with a leap and knocked at the front door.

  “Have you swept off that porch?” Miss Birdie shouted from inside.

  He looked around. A broom leaned against the wall next to the front door with a dustpan hooked onto it.

  “I…” Adam attempted to speak, to identify himself and explain why he was on her porch.

  “Don’t backtalk me,” she said firmly. “Get your south-forty in motion and sweep that porch.”

  What was a south-forty?

  “And don’t even try to get inside,” the pillar continued, “until you complete that chore or I’ll tan your hide.”

  Mystified but obedient, the minister picked up the broom and walked to the end of the porch. Maybe her shoulder was acting up and she felt grumpy and she couldn’t do the task herself. More likely, she didn’t realize it was him.

  How carefully did this need to be done? Should Adam sweep between the rail supports? Knowing Miss Birdie, she’d expect that. If he didn’t do it right, and she did know it was him, he bet she wouldn’t really tan his hide—but he also knew how her words could take off a few inches of skin. Besides, he had nothing better to do.

  Fortunately, the porch was small, maybe six by eight. He went over it once, grinning as he imagined her reaction. He swept the leaves and trash into the dustpan and scrutinized the area. A plastic bag was tied to the rail. He pulled it off and dumped the contents of the dustpan inside. After checking the porch again, Adam concluded that if he wanted to get inside the house, he’d better give it another sweep.

  Finally satisfied, he tied the plastic sack, shook the broom over the railing to get rid of the dust, and turned toward the door.

  “I’m finished,” he shouted.

  No response came from the house for nearly a minute. Absolute silence. Then the curtain across the window in the door was pushed aside. Miss Birdie stared out. She blinked and stood as if transfixed, her eyes still on Adam’s face.

  Suddenly the curtains dropped and the door opened.

  “Oh, Preacher.” Bright red suffused her face and covered her neck. “Oh, Preacher, I’m so sorry.”

  He glanced around the porch. “Did I miss a spot?”

  “Come in, come in.” She waved her hands toward the living room. “Please sit. Let me have that broom and the bag and the dustpan.” As Adam entered, she pulled the items away and stood there, holding them, silent, in the middle of the room, her mouth a perfect O.

  He hadn’t thought a woman as commanding as the pillar could look mortified.

  Adam smiled amicably, as if sweeping her porch was the exact thing he’d hoped to do that day. “I was in the area and stopped by to see if you’ve recovered from the dinner.”

  “Oh.” She tossed the broom and other stuff in a corner. “Oh, Preacher, I’m so sorry. I thought you were Bree.”

  He didn’t answer but felt sure confusion showed on his face as well as the desire for an explanation.

  “She was supposed to help at the community dinner but didn’t show up. For punishment, I planned to make her sweep the porch.” She dropped in a chair. “I thought she’d knocked instead of coming right inside because she knew I’d be angry.” Then she leaped to her feet. “Let me get you a slice of pie and some coffee.” With a twirl, she left the room.

  Having filled up on more pie at the dinner than one person should, he really didn’t want more. His caffeine intake had reached a new high, so more would probably result in jitters. But he could not turn this down. He’d embarrassed the pillar and doubted her deep humiliation and sincere expressions of regret would be offered again. If she wanted to apologize, ply him with sweets and coffee, why should he refuse? Seemed the least a preacher could do. For her spiritual growth, of course.

  They were both good. The pumpkin pie tasted spicy and delicious, but he enjoyed the humble pie even more.

  Traditionally, the church celebrated the Hanging of the Greens on the Sunday evening after Thanksgiving. With the service over, Adam looked around at the sanctuary beautifully prepared for Advent. Garlands framed the baptistery; wreaths hung on the fronts of the pulpit and lectern while a red bow marked each pew. A huge Christmas tree stood in the narthex—what the congregation called the lobby—its white ornaments glowing on the dark tree. The decorating finished, everyone had adjourned next door for more decorating and refreshments.

  Adam strolled back toward the parsonage, again stopping under the big tree to contemplate the house and the church and the town and life in general. He zipped his jacket, pulled his hat from a pocket, and put it on, because November evenings in Texas did get chilly. After taking a deep breath of the crisp air, he blew it out, forming a cloud of moisture in front of his mouth, and listened to the hymn “Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel” ringing in the church steeple.

  Through the big windows of the parsonage, he could see the activity inside. The ladies of the church—and a few gentlemen with carpentry skills who didn’t mind being bossed around—bedecked the house. After all, who could expect a single male minister to decorate the way a minister’s wife would?

  On the porch railings and inside, up the staircase, they’d attached evergreen branches and bright red bows. In each front window, electric candles glowed. The parsonage looked beautiful and, he bet, smelled wonderful. He’d never be able to concentrate there.

  As Adam blissfully watched, Miss Birdie strode out of the house with Chewy following at her heels. After attempting to shoo the dog away several times, unsuccessfully, the pillar ignored the creature and headed straight toward her minister, pointing toward the steeple from which the music emerged.

  Her expression and stride warned him he was in trouble.

  “What is that song?” she demanded when she was close enough for him to hear.

  “It’s an Advent hymn, Miss Birdie, because we’re in Advent. In churches, the Christmas season doesn’t start for four more weeks.” He’d explained this over and over, but the information never sank in. Everyone wanted Christmas carols. “That’s why we’re playing ‘Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel’ instead of ‘Silent Night.’”

  She put her hand on her hips. “All of us”—she waved her arm toward those inside the parsonage
and generally around town and the state and perhaps throughout the universe—“want Christmas music. You ministers can say anything you want, but for us, it’s not Advent. It’s almost Christmas. It’s time for Christmas songs.”

  Adam glanced over her head toward the parsonage. The flickering glow of the candles and the light coming from Janey’s and Hector’s rooms on the second floor warmed him. In a few days, his parents would arrive to spend the holidays in Texas. They’d hate it, but they’d be here.

  Thinking about the Firestones and the memory of the Smiths as well as wondering who might move in next, Adam was filled with joy. Add to that the bustle of church members inside and out, the scent of pine, and the sound of chattering and laughter, and the Victorian house was no longer the vacant building he’d moved into in June, no longer the echoingly empty residence of a single man.

  He smiled. The choice of music—Advent hymns or Christmas carols—didn’t seem important. “All right,” he said, giving in.

  Much to her surprise, Adam took the pillar’s hand. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly… ,” he sang as the two of them strolled toward the parsonage. She joined in after a few notes. “’Tis the season to be jolly… ,” they sang together.

  Taking care not to hurt her shoulder, Adam escorted the pillar up the front steps and onto the porch before he pulled her into a quick dance step as they sang, “Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.”

  Wonder of all wonders, Miss Birdie laughed as they twirled inside.

  The aroma of pine boughs mingled with the spicy scent of hot apple cider and surrounded them. In the hall, those church members who had gathered there joined in—“Don we now our gay apparel” —as Janey and Hector clattered down the stairs of the old Victorian house.

  Adam was home.

  Reading Group Guide

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS for

  The Welcome Committee of

  Butternut Creek

  Adam heads out toward Butternut Creek in a car he’s not sure will make it. How do you feel about his starting out so unprepared? Why did he do that? Have you or a loved one undertaken a task with no idea what lay ahead? If so, how did you or your loved one make it through the unexpected?

  Do you know anyone like Miss Birdie? Does a person like her help or hurt a church? How do you feel Adam handled her? How would you deal with a church member or family member or acquaintance who’s so certain he or she is right?

  Adam dreads counseling Sam. Are there duties or responsibilities a minister has that may be difficult? How would a minister handle these? How do you cope with responsibilities you dread? Do you turn to prayer? How does God speak to you at that time?

  Did Sam’s reaction to loss seem realistic? Have you experienced a difficult loss? How did you handle that? Again, do you turn to prayer? How does God answer?

  Willow refuses to become serious about Sam until he comes to grips with his anger. Do you agree with her decision? Why or why not?

  How did the following help Sam to deal with his losses? Adam and the church

  Willow, Leo, and Nick

  His father

  Winnie Jenkins says that helping the Firestones is what the church does. Do you agree with their turning the parsonage into a shelter? Why or why not? What concerns did Miss Birdie and Mercedes express? Did they have valid points?

  Hector says that, in his experience, churches don’t always do good deeds. What do you think he might have experienced in his life that would make him believe that?

  Adam tells Hector and Sam that his father, a very successful businessman, didn’t like his choice to enter the ministry—even though he and his sister were raised in the church. Did this make sense to you? Why or why not?

  How had the general become so demanding that Sam felt like a failure? What changed the general? Can you think of some examples of how tragedies change people, either good or bad?

  Where can we find good in the midst of tragedy and loss? Does God cause those? Why do you believe this—or why not?

  Have you experienced a loss that made you angry at God or left you doubting God’s existence? What happened, and how did you recover your faith? Were you changed? How?

  Look for the next Butternut Creek novel, coming soon.

  An experience as a freshman in college has left Gussie Milton unable to trust others. To cope, she has thrown herself into caring for her aging parents, her photography business, and church work. Although she'd like to have a relationship, she's frightened.

  Miss Birdie and Mercedes see Gussie for the loving woman she is and use their matchmaking skills to encourage her relationship with Pastor Adam. But are Adam and Gussie really ready to be together, or will the Widows’ meddling drive them further apart? Find out in The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek.

  Available November 2012 wherever books are sold.

  Praise for THE WELCOME COMMITTEE OF BUTTERNUT CREEK

  “A warm, witty, wonderful book. I loved it, and you will too.”

  —Susan Mallery, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

  “Heartwarming and hilarious, The Welcome Committee of Butternut Creek offers a touching, small-town view of the ties that bind.”

  —Award-winning author Colleen Thompson

  “Wow! Jane Myers Perrine has penned an amazing story with heart, hope, and humor. She created a setting with such unique and spunky characters that you can’t help but fall in love with the people and the place. Grab a comfortable chair and the book and get swept away to Butternut Creek, a quaint town where friendship, romance, and laughter are abundant. Perrine has a beautiful knack for storytelling and creating unforgettable characters that makes this series a must read.”

  —Christie Craig, author of Hotter in Texas, the humorous romantic suspense series released by Grand Central/Forever

  “Perrine has penned a charming, heartwarming story with endearing characters and a lovely small town. I adored Butternut Creek and its residents.”

  —Vicky Dreiling, author of How to Marry a Duke

  Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Reading Group Guide

  Look for the next Butternut Creek novel, coming soon.

  Praise for The Welcome Committee of Butternut Creek

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 by Jane Myers Perrine

  Cover design by Julia Kushnirsky

  Cover Illustration by Robert Crawford

  Cover copyright 2012 © Hachette Book Group Inc.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First e-book edition: April 2012

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  ISBN 978-1-4555-0566-1