Courting Hope

by Jenna Mindel

  The worship team tromped into the sanctuary, their laughter loud and distracting. Sinclair cast them a glance and waved.

  Hope got up to leave. “I better make sure Shannon has everything she needs for children’s church.”

  “You’ll be back for the service?” He wanted her opinion on his message. If he were truthful, he’d admit that he wanted her assurance. He didn’t want to let his congregation down on his first Sunday service. He didn’t want to let Hope down, either.

  She nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  After Walt and his wife, Carol, rang the church’s bell, Hope took her seat in the fourth-row pew as always. She ignored the creeping disappointment that her parents really weren’t coming. She’d hoped they’d finally show.

  It proved difficult to concentrate during the short worship service. She’d close her eyes, only to open them and find herself staring at the back of Sinclair’s head. He wore a nice suit for his first Sunday message, but no tie. He preferred T-shirts underneath his button-downs. After working with him for a week, Sinclair seemed different—but had he really changed?

  She’d done her best to keep her distance. Wednesday night, she should have remained downstairs with the children’s program instead of making arrangements to hear Sinclair’s first message. Ever since she’d heard him talk about Haiti, she’d felt drawn to him in a way that irritated her. She wasn’t ready to forgive him. She shouldn’t want anything to do with him, but after all these years, Sinclair still fascinated her. Now maybe even more.

  When greeting time rolled around after the kids had been dismissed for children’s church, Hope hit the aisles. She chatted with people she’d known most of her life. She bounced off questions about her parents’ whereabouts with vague answers. But some of them looked like they’d guessed the reason, even if they didn’t say a word. They remembered Sara’s accident. They remembered that both Sinclair and Ryan Marsh had been there that day.

  “Good morning, Hope.”

  Hope halted her steps when she recognized Bob and Rose Marsh. Of course they’d attend their son’s church. She hadn’t thought about it, nor had she prepared for it. Especially when Sinclair had told her that Eva and her fiancé were counseling at their own church—the church both of their families had attended when they were teens.

  Pressing on her stomach to quell the rush of memories, Hope drew in a deep breath and then reached out her hands. “Mr. and Mrs. Marsh, nice to see you.”

  Sinclair’s diminutive mom enveloped her in a warm hug instead. “You look wonderful, Hope. How are you?”

  Hope didn’t meet Rose’s direct gaze. The woman could see right through a person, and Hope didn’t want to be read like an open book. “Good, thanks. And you both?”

  “Retirement agrees with us, right, Bob?” Rose elbowed her husband.

  “Sure does.”

  “But you’re here for the summer, right?” Hope remembered how Rose used to invite her to stay for dinner, along with Sara. Sara had often raved about how the Marsh family had been tight. Were they still?

  “Yep, helping Eva and Adam with the orchard. By the way, we’re having a party—”

  “Hey, Mom,” Sinclair interrupted with a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “We’re about to get started.”

  “So these are your parents?” Mary Stillwell moved in. “You must be so proud. Sinclair, you have to introduce them to the church body.”

  “Ah, yeah. Mom, Dad, this is Mary Stillwell.”

  “My husband, Chuck, is on the board.”

  “We’ve met before. Stillwell is one of the largest commercial growers in the county,” Bob Marsh said. “How’d he fare the storm a couple weeks back?”

  Mary gave an awkward laugh like she didn’t dare give any information away to a competing grower. “Time will tell, right?”

  Hope noticed that Sinclair looked flustered when Chuck joined the circle and started talking cherries with his dad. Marsh Orchards had never been close in scale to Stillwell Farms, but Bob Marsh still wore his pride openly. He bragged about the big plans his future son-in-law had for their orchard.

  “I better get us back on track,” Sinclair whispered close to Hope’s ear, and briefly caressed her arm.

  His touch made her shiver. She caught Rose Marsh’s eye, and Hope’s heart sank when she saw the woman’s smile grow a little wider.

  Sinclair’s voice came over the microphone, calling the parishioners back to their seats. “It’s nice to know I’m in a church where greeting time turns into full-blown fellowship. I can’t wait to see what the potlucks are like.”

  Hope sat down amid the good-natured murmurs and laughs. The church hadn’t had a potluck in months, so hearing Sinclair mention looking forward to one might as well have been an invitation to schedule one. No doubt Mrs. Larson was already thumbing through her calendar to pick a date. And Hope would get a call from her tomorrow, prodding her to make plans.

  Hope’s fingers gripped the edge of her pew as Sinclair took the podium. Why did it matter so much how well he did this morning? He looked natural and composed, except for the tightness of his jaw as he introduced his parents. And then he joked about keeping this message clean, and Hope felt her tension ease.

  Then Sinclair prayed, and she noticed something different about him. His stance seemed firmer and his shoulders a little broader as he opened up his Bible and straightened his notes. There was a gleam in his eye as Sinclair boldly read a passage from chapter three in Philippians. He didn’t read with the carefree charm she’d expected. Sinclair spoke with confidence about forgetting the past and looking forward to the future by trusting God.

  His deep voice rang out with conviction. Hearing him speak with such fire made her skin prickle into goose bumps. And yet there was humbleness in him, too, like the day he’d approached her parents. She’d seen a peek of that then.

  He talked about how God had changed him. He admitted that he’d made mistakes and didn’t have all the answers. He advised everyone to put their trust in God, because Sinclair would most likely let them down.

  When he looked directly at her, Hope had to swallow the lump of emotion that rose in her throat. His eyes blazed with contrition, and Hope couldn’t look away.

  When Sinclair moved on to reference the next scripture verse, Hope looked around the sanctuary. The congregation was transfixed, held captive by words spoken with truth. Words that closed with an invitation to those who wanted to put their trust in the Lord to come forward.

  A couple of people answered the altar call, and Hope felt a wash of pride for her new pastor. If anyone could rally this church body around a building project, it was Sinclair. She could see that now. If only she could be sure which project he’d get behind.

  After the service concluded, several people rushed to the platform in order to shake Sinclair’s hand. That was as good a sign as any that their new pastor had been officially accepted.

  Hope made for the exit with her insides twisted into a ball of old and new feelings. She was proud of Sinclair, but something else swirled inside her heart that was too dangerous to name and too scary to let loose.

  Walking outside into the warm sunshine, she sorted out those disturbing emotions concerning her boss, pastor and longtime friend. He’d let her down so many times. But then she’d had unrealistic expectations of him. Dreams.

  Hope boxed up those dreams and put them away like she’d done a hundred times before. Tamping her feelings down deep, she refused to care for Sinclair all over again.

  Not looking where she was going, Hope bumped right into Rose Marsh. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.”

  Rose smiled and then pushed a small envelope into her hand. “Please come.”

  It looked like an invitation. Hope tipped her head.

  “Eva and Adam’s engagement party. Eva would love to see you.”

  �
��Oh, I don’t know...” Hope searched for an excuse but came up short. She couldn’t find the words to refuse. Wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “Don’t worry about Sinclair. Don’t worry about calling to RSVP. Just come.” Rose patted her hand and left.

  Hope stood in the parking lot, staring at the envelope. If Sinclair had truly changed, seeing him with his family would prove it.

  After tearing open the seal, Hope read the date and sucked in a breath.

  Saturday night at Marsh Orchards.

  This Saturday would have been Sara’s twenty-fifth birthday. They couldn’t have known when they had scheduled the party. Ryan might not have even remembered. If he had, she couldn’t imagine him saying anything about it to dampen his sister’s joy.

  Hope had run into Ryan a few times in town, and every time she’d seen him, he’d looked lost. She supposed they all were, to an extent.

  How could she go and not break her parents’ hearts? Yet watching them try not to fall apart wasn’t something she wanted to do. She couldn’t face another year staying home to grieve. Her sister would never want that kind of morose tribute.

  Hope looked back and spotted Sinclair talking to several people on the steps outside the sanctuary. He met her gaze and cocked his head, almost as if he could see the struggle inside her.

  She gave him a quick wave and headed for her car. In the driver’s seat, she fingered the invitation with its pretty pink parchment paper and fancy lettering promising a happy occasion. She wanted to accept that promise, but at what price?

  Stuffing the invitation back in the envelope, Hope started her car and headed out of the parking lot with a whispered prayer for direction. She knew from experience that following your heart wasn’t always the best decision.

  She shouldn’t go. Plain and simple.

  But she had six days to decide what to do. Plenty of time to change her mind.

  Chapter Four

  Sinclair stopped by his office at church to pick up a business card he’d left there over the weekend. He also wanted to hear Hope’s thoughts on Sunday’s message. She’d give him an honest answer.

  Hope’s opinion had always been important to him, but now it seemed vital. She knew the church so well. She knew the people and their expectations. She’d tell him if he’d missed the mark. Although he didn’t think he had.

  “What are you doing here? Monday is your day off.” Hope caught him in the hallway between offices.

  He lifted the business card. “I’m meeting a distributor of prefabricated commercial buildings to get some quotes. Wanna go with me?”

  Hope glanced back at her desk.

  “Shannon can cover the phones. Come on, it’ll only take a couple hours. I could use your help in asking the right questions.”

  When she didn’t look convinced, Sinclair added what he hoped was additional incentive. “I’ll buy lunch.”

  Hope’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know....”

  Her hesitation bit him. There used to be a time when she’d had no reservations toward him. When it was a piece of cake to get her to play hooky. Only this wasn’t playing hooky. It was building project work, and it was important.

  “Come on,” he whispered and then waited.

  She finally gave in. “Okay, I’ll get my purse.”

  He smiled and followed her into the main office.

  Shannon looked up. “Where are you guys off to?”

  “Traverse City. We’re looking at construction options for Wednesday’s building committee meeting.” Sinclair leaned against Hope’s desk.

  Shannon’s grin widened. “Now that sounds like too much fun to handle.”

  No matter how hard he tried to hide his attraction to Hope, when it came to the receptionist, Sinclair got the feeling that Shannon saw right through him. “Gotta start comparing costs somewhere.”

  She gave him an encouraging nod.

  “You’ve got my cell if anything comes up.” Hope slung her purse over her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, I can man the fort.”

  “Thanks, Shannon.” Sinclair shook his head at the wink she gave him before following Hope out the door.

  This outing might be work related, but Sinclair looked forward to spending time alone with Hope. He wanted to know more about her plans for the preschool. He wanted to know more about her and the woman she’d become while he’d been gone.

  When they reached his car, he opened the passenger side door for her—something he’d never done before.

  Hope looked surprised. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He waited for her to buckle in before shutting the door.

  Slipping behind the wheel, Sinclair was all too aware of her sitting next to him. He’d missed her. Missed their friendship. After all that had happened, could they go back?

  “How far?”

  Sinclair glanced at her as he turned down the air-conditioning. “What’s that?”

  “How far is this place?” Hope wore pink pants with a matching top that made her look ultrafeminine. Pretty. She sat up straight with her hands folded in her lap, staring at the road ahead.

  He could see the tension in her shoulders. She wasn’t comfortable around him. “Just west of Traverse City. Not far.”

  “How’d you find out about it?”

  “My dad gave me the guy’s card. I called and set up an appointment.” Sinclair had gone to the office Saturday evening to prepare for Sunday’s sermon and had made the plans then.

  Hope stared at her hands. “Your mom gave me an invitation to your sister’s party.”

  He kept his focus on the road. “Are you going?”

  “I don’t know if I should.”

  “Eva would love to see you.” Sinclair wasn’t so sure about Ryan.

  “What about you?” She looked at him then, but her expression was hard to read. She looked calm and composed, like always.

  Talk about a no-brainer. He’d love to see her there, too. Would love to dance with her, hold her. But that wasn’t wise, considering the situation with her parents. “What about your folks?”

  Hope shrugged. “They might not understand.”

  “Whatever you decide, my mom will be fine. And so will I.” There. He hadn’t encouraged her one way or the other. That was safe enough.

  “Thanks.” Hope smiled, and her features relaxed. A little.

  “You’re welcome.” Sinclair noticed the way she curled her hair behind one ear. The edge of her dusky waves swirled at the sweet spot of her neck, right along the line of her jaw.

  She glanced at him, her cheeks a little rosier than a minute ago. “What?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He turned his attention back where it belonged before they ended up in a ditch.

  When they pulled into the parking lot, Hope spotted a couple of pole buildings erected in a field and knew this wasn’t the right option. Their church was old and quaint, with white clapboard siding and a bell tower. A pole building stuck to the side would never fly. It’d be ugly.

  She didn’t wait for Sinclair to open her door, even though he was headed around the front of the car by the time Hope got out.

  “Just keep an open mind, okay?” he said.

  “I haven’t said a word.”

  “No, but you’re scowling.”

  “These are glorified pole barns.”

  “I know.” Sinclair flashed her that boyish smile. “Let’s see what the guy has to say.”

  The guy headed straight for them with a clipboard and dripping eagerness to make a sale. He held out his hand. “Afternoon, folks. You’re Bob Marsh’s son, right?”

  “I am.” He pumped the guy’s hand. “I’m Sinclair Marsh, and this is my office manager, Hope Petersen. We’re looking at options for our church.
”

  The guy scanned his clipboard. “A small gym, right?”

  “Or classrooms,” Hope added.

  The salesman gave her an indifferent nod and focused his attention back on Sinclair. Talking the whole way to the showroom about low maintenance and ease of construction, he didn’t take a breath.

  Hope wasn’t sold. There was no way they’d meet state requirements for an early education classroom. She pulled out a pad of paper from her purse and jotted down some questions. Could the exterior be altered to match an existing building? What about future expansion?

  In the showroom, portions of completed structures were displayed to give the buyer an idea of available options. Some looked like building trailers and makeshift office space, but nothing looked comparable to classrooms. The windows were small and few. Kids needed windows to let in lots of light.

  After a brief video presentation, the salesman looked ready to talk nuts and bolts. “You mentioned a youth center and classrooms—here’s how we can achieve multipurpose usage.”

  Hope leaned forward as the salesman sketched out a stand-alone building, again with few windows. The inside would have a gymnasium floor, basketball hoops and a small stage area.

  “We’ve created these for other churches, and there are plenty of electrical hookups for music. The stage serves as a platform for youth ministry as well as theatrical events.”

  “How would you accommodate classrooms?” Hope said, before Sinclair could speak.

  “We can order dividers that convert the space into rooms.”

  Hope didn’t like the sound of that.

  “What kind of estimates are we looking at? As well as time to construct?” Sinclair gave her a pointed look to jot down the answer.

  “Let me show you some examples, along with the associated costs.”

  Hope tried not to fidget as they took virtual tours into several multipurpose pole buildings. Some were indeed impressive. And expensive. The better options came with higher price tags and bigger units.