She said nothing. She could have called her dad and asked for the money; but at almost thirty, living on her own, she hadn’t wanted to admit she needed help. Talk about pride. It took a minute, but she nodded. “Okay. I’ll pay you back on payday.”
“No, you won’t. As many of your clients as we help here, we can do something for you, too.”
“Let him do it, Sharee,” George said. “And accept the Lord’s blessing. I’ll get my car and jump this for you.”
“Okay. I… Thank you.” She watched as he walked toward his car. How many times would the Lord have to tell her the same thing?
~.~.~
Morning took a long time coming. Sharee climbed from bed and went to stare out the front window of her apartment. The stand of oak and pine trees in the middle shifted the morning light to the ground. Squirrels slipped from tree to tree. Cardinals and sparrows chirped and called. She closed her eyes and tried to inhale the peace it usually gave her.
Why had she fallen for John? And she had, no doubt about that. He’d worked there for two years. No way she saw this coming.
Of course, she’d stayed away from him after that first meeting. When he’d found her so broken and humiliated. She’d been sobbing uncontrollably, and she had the bottle of pills in her hand. The pills were from surgery she’d had a few months before to remove a cyst.
Dean’s rage had exploded that day. He’d slapped her and shook her until she thought her neck would crack. When she managed to break free, she’d raced home and, in desperation, made a change of plans. She needed to go somewhere where he wouldn’t find her. Hurting already, she’d grabbed the pills and left.
The church was deserted when she arrived—what she’d expected that Saturday. She ran to the pond, dropped to the damp ground and buried her head in her hands. Shock and disbelief and sobs shook her. Until John stepped from behind a tree.
She hadn’t seen anyone near the water when she climbed from her SUV and didn’t know him then. But he’d quickly introduced himself, explained who he was. The new maintenance man. She was familiar with the name.
He kept talking—telling her where he came from, what he thought needed doing around the grounds. She tried to interrupt, but he seemed oblivious. Only later, she knew he wasn’t. He had moved to general topics and then to how people dealt with hard times. He began encouraging her that no matter what she was going through, things would get better. It was only later when he asked for the pills that she realized he thought she wanted to kill herself.
She stepped back from the window. So, humiliated still, she’d kept away from him. Until now. Something broke inside her chest. Emotions washed back and forth while she stared out the window, seeing nothing. Amazing how much she cared in such a short time.
The other thing hovered like dense fog around her. She tried to ignore it. She moved to the kitchen, took a hard-boiled egg out of the refrigerator and grabbed a banana before sitting on a stool at the counter. As she ate, her eyes lost their focus. Yep, the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. The giraffe with its head through the ceiling. Or the rhino standing in the corner.
All right, I can’t ignore you. You and your black Jaguar. Who are you?
Shoving down the hurt in her chest, she climbed from the stool, made her way to the bathroom and stared into the mirror. Her shoulder-length hair curled about her head in wild disarray. Not neat and straight like hers. Sharee grabbed a band from the basket on the counter, gathered her untamed hair at the back of her head and secured it.
Her glance fell on the end table and her Bible. Walking over, she lifted it and opened to the chapter of Hebrews she’d read last night. Her finger moved down the page, Chapter thirteen, verses five and six. “He has said, I will never leave you nor forsake you; so we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper and I will not fear.”
A few minutes later, she went to her bedroom, changed into jeans, a cotton shirt, and a sweater. Grabbing her laptop and purse, she headed out the door.
She’d dealt with anger, with pain, and with tears, but her shaking hands presented a new problem. The unsigned note she picked up from the driver’s seat of her CR-V trembled even as her hands did.
Car unlocked. No surprise.
Battery installed.
She knew who’d left it. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? And he objected to the unlocked car, too. No surprise there, either.
As uncivil as it sounded, she wanted to rip out the battery he’d put in, dump it back on his all-too-neat workbench, and let Pastor Alan buy her one as planned.
Work would be a welcome relief to all that battled within her now. She stepped into the SUV and slammed the door. The engine started without a hitch.
Chapter 15
Alan carried two large cups of coffee as he walked toward John’s truck Wednesday morning. A cold front had moved into the region, earlier than usual for Florida. Good thing he’d listened to Daneen and put on a light jacket.
John stepped from the truck and gave him a wary look as Alan handed him the warm drink. “Greeks. Bearing gifts.”
The childhood banter he and John had used when growing up came back to him with a smile. His mother was Greek, and Alan had delighted in pulling pranks on John when they were younger.
He smiled now. “Hmm. That might be closer than you think. We need to talk. Let’s go sit on the bleachers.” Alan led the way, and they climbed about halfway to the top before sitting a while in silence.
John sipped at the coffee. “Thanks. I needed this.”
Alan nodded. He’d spent time in prayer last night and again this morning. People he cared about were hurting. The enemy had attacked on his watch, in his church; and he didn’t like it. The church, ultimately, belonged to God, of course; but God had put him in a place of responsibility, and that trust was sacred.
“You’ve done a good job.” Alan waved his cup in front of him. “With these bleachers, with everything needed for the program. It’s a lot of work. I appreciate it, and I know Sharee does, too.” He hesitated a moment and watched the steam rise from his cup. “So, were you looking for a fight Monday or what?”
John glanced his way, frowning, then his face cleared. “Ahh. George.” He took another sip of coffee. “Good man, hard worker. I like him. I can’t say he feels the same. He spat on the ground rather than hit me.”
Alan looked at him in surprise, and John nodded. He said nothing, though, just studied the top of his coffee cup and let the moment pass. Another subject held his concentration. He would make the jump. “It’s his second time to get in my face about you…about your treatment of Sharee.”
“Second time?” John frowned. “What makes it his business, anyway? He’s too old for her, and I don’t get those vibes.”
“As to too old, I would imagine that’s all in how you look at it. But no, he’s feeling protective. She has no covering here. No father. No husband. No one to look out for her. Not that she wouldn’t fight that as a sexist attitude. George sees it as my place more than his. As her pastor, I see it that way, too. At the moment. I’m her covering.”
John sent him a sideways glance. “And if I’m messing with her, you’re coming after me?”
Pastor Alan chuckled. “Sounds like a bad western. But… are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Messing with her? Playing with her, I think George feels.”
“Playing? Oh, no, I haven’t been playing, but don’t worry. I’ll be staying away from her, as much as possible, from now on.” The edge to his voice highlighted the words.
Alan fingered his cup, staring at it, repeating a silent prayer from this morning. “I didn’t think you were playing. That’s not your style. But…” he took a deep breath, knowing the next words might infuriate him. “George is concerned about—I believe the term was—your moral compass.”
“My moral compass?” John asked, and then his eyes changed, his mouth tightened. “So he thinks I’ve had sex with her, is that it? An
d now that I’ve got what I wanted, I’ve got no use for her?”
Alan stared across the field, not answering, giving him time. John started to rise, and he put out his hand.
John shook it off. “That’s not saying much about Sharee, either. Has he thought of that?”
“Sit down. He’s concerned about Sharee.”
“He can take his concern elsewhere. I don’t need it. Sharee doesn’t need it. She’s fine.”
“John, if you were standing where George is, you’d have come to me long ago.”
They stared at each other, and then John looked away. In a minute, he lowered himself back onto the bench. “All right. You got something else?”
“Sharee’s been here for eight years. I know her fairly well. She’s a woman of strong convictions. Some might say to a fault. She believes in doing things right, in following God.”
“You don’t have to sing her praises to me. I understand exactly what you’re saying.”
“You used to like that in people. In fact, that’s a trait you held in high esteem if I remember correctly.”
“You have the past tense correct. Look, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I said I’ll be staying away from her. That should make both you and George happy.” He set his cup down.
Alan glanced at him. “Do you like the fact that George is judging your intentions in regard to Sharee?”
“No.”
“Well, you’ve judged Sharee in a similar way, haven’t you?”
John’s head came around. “Where do you get that?”
“You’ve judged her intentions. I’m sure she never meant to keep something from you. She got caught up in her feelings for you. But you’ve kept something from her, too?”
“No.”
“No?”
John’s face hardened. “It doesn’t interfere with the relationship.”
“You can’t believe that. And you let her believe you don’t have a relationship with God.”
“What was I supposed to do? Lie? God and I no longer have a relationship.”
“I didn’t say it was a good one,” Alan let the hint of a smile come through. “You haven’t told her about yourself. That was another thing you were always big on. The truth. Omission is not truth.” John said nothing, and Alan continued, “You’re angry that she didn’t tell you earlier that she won’t date someone who’s not committed to God. She should have, yes. But you should have known that, too.”
“What?” John’s frown sliced him, and the word skidded across the morning air.
“Yes. Daneen and I have talked about Sharee and her convictions before. Perhaps your emotions got in the way, too.” John said nothing, and Alan took a last sip of his coffee. “She made her choice a long time ago. Do it God’s way. And it hasn’t been easy for her, but the choice is right, and you know it.”
“All right.” Exasperation wove through the words. “You’ve made your point.”
“On the other hand, you didn’t bother to share things about yourself. Things she has a right to know.”
John rose from the bench and brushed a hand down the side of his jeans. “After this program is finished, it might be time for me to move on.”
Alan stood, also, still fingering his cup. He stared across the field. “You won’t have to. She’s already come to me about leaving—before the program is finished.”
“She would never do that. This program means too much to her.”
“No, she is beating herself up for letting the situation between you two gets out of control. I might have convinced her to stay. That is, if you can keep your temper under control. Be civil. Give her some space. She’s not fine. She’s hurting. You haven’t appreciated the depth of her feelings for you or appreciated her commitment to God—for which she’s paying a price. You’re exacting the price, cousin.” The sentence dropped between them.
A hard silence followed. Alan’s soundless prayer rose to heaven again.
“This conversation is finished.” John swung himself over the side of the bleachers and walked away.
Alan watched him go then lifted his eyes in quiet communication. Taking a long, deep breath, he nodded and climbed down.
~.~.~
John stepped into the work building, moving over to the workbench, straightening the tools in an absent, automatic way.
She has no covering. She’s a woman of strong convictions. You haven’t told her the truth. You haven’t appreciated her commitment to God. She made her choice a long time ago, and the choice is right. You know it.
He slammed the cupboard door that stood ajar. A second later, his body locked, eyes focused on his tools. Someone had put them back. He’d left them in the field on Monday. Yesterday, he’d spent the day running errands, and George had worked at his main job. Not that Alan or George would have done it.
She’d put them away Monday after he’d raked her over the coals.
He took two quick steps to the door, then out, slamming it behind him. He stood there, and the feel of the cold moonlight as he leaned against the wall three nights ago swept over him. The sound of the shower echoed loud in his ears. He shook his head to clear the memory then jerked it skyward.
“Your idea of a joke, no doubt,” he said between his teeth to the God of the universe.
She’s paying a price. You’re exacting the price.
John shut his mind to the words and strode away.
Chapter 16
“Sharee, who is doing this?” The despair in Marci’s voice slipped out. Her voice trembled. “Why are they doing it? Again. I haven’t hurt anyone.”
Sharee’s hand tightened on the phone, and early morning light painted shadows on her living room wall. “I don’t know, Marci. I wish I did. Where did you find it?”
“Out with the morning paper.”
“You read the paper?” The only ones she knew that read the newspaper were her parents.
“Stephen does. He likes to sit and read at the end of the day.”
Sharee nodded even though Marci couldn’t see her. She could see Stephen doing that. It fit his laid-back personality. “What did the note say?”
“‘Enjoy him while you can.’” Marci’s voice broke.
Sharee heard the sob, and her heart squeezed. “Lord,” she said, praying aloud, “keep Joshua safe. Comfort Marci. And please frustrate any plans this person might have. Make them stop this harassment.”
Marci cleared her throat. “You think someone does have plans? That this is serious?”
Sharee hadn’t thought about her prayer. It had just risen from inside. “I don’t know. It’s probably a prank, but prayer can’t hurt. Just in case. Have you called the police?”
“Not yet. I’ll talk with Stephen tonight.” Marci’s voice stumbled, and she sniffed. “I can’t imagine someone hating me this much.”
Sharee thought of Abbey. “Maybe it’s just resentment. From someone who’s so miserable that they can’t stand to see others happy.”
“I hope, but I wish they’d stop. I hear the kids stirring. I’ve got to go.”
“All right. I’ll be at work later. Call me if you need me.”
“Okay.”
Sharee set the phone on the counter. She should confront Abbey. Who else could it be? Even though Ryann had lost her baby six months ago, she wouldn’t do this. And no one else… Bruce? Ridiculous. But was there hidden resentment there. Marci was driving—but the other woman was cited. It wasn’t Marci’s fault even though she felt that way at times. She’d confessed to Sharee that she and Bruce were arguing when the accident happened. Her attention wasn’t where it should have been, and she carried that guilt. Still, Bruce would never do something like this. Never.
~.~.~
John stopped at both Home Depot and Lowe’s on the way to work. He needed sturdier brackets than he had. Herod’s Court and some other scenes needed fastening together, and work beckoned today like a thousand-pound leatherback pu
lling herself ashore to lay eggs. A heavy workload.
The long night, reliving the past, waking from the dreams, having Sharee’s face and Janice’s overlaid in his mind shoved him out of bed early. He’d gone for breakfast at a truck stop and then headed to the stores before making a beeline for the church.
He parked his truck and watched George and the homeless man Sharee brought in on Monday pass right in front of him. Where had the homeless man come from? Had Sharee picked him up again?
Her lack of regard for her own safety astounded him. Didn’t she know what could happen? She picked up hitchhikers and gave away money when she didn’t have enough of her own—to buy a battery or a coat, he suspected. His stomach felt like a swarm of hornets inside.
The two men disappeared around the building. Had Alan hired him? John slapped the steering wheel. Not his business. She’d made that clear. None of his business. Just because he’d let himself become involved…
The helplessness and the rage he’d wrestled with first with Alexis, and later with Janice, flooded him. He wouldn’t sit here and do nothing—whether it was his business or not. He’d put in the battery, but if he could stop her from picking up hitchhikers…
Stepping down from the truck, he slammed the door, tramped to the office, and yanked the door open. “Alan!”
Daneen’s head shot up, eyes wide. John stopped short. With an effort, he lowered his voice. “Sorry, Daneen. Is Alan around?”
The pastor stepped out of his back office and came forward, his face a question.
“Did you hire that homeless man?” John’s voice climbed once more. “The one Sharee brought here?”
Pastor Alan’s eyebrows rose. “I did. He said he’d work if I would pay him. I think he needs the job.”
Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1) Page 13
