Were there actually any new faces other than my own? Somehow, I doubted it.
“Let’s open our Bibles back up to Ephesians and continue our study there.”
Dee put a Bible in my lap. I had no idea where Ephesians was, but I saw Dee flip to the back half the book, so I started there. I thumbed through twice before I found it.
“Starting in chapter one, verse eighteen.” She waited a moment until the page-flipping stopped. “‘The eyes of your understanding being enlightened; that ye may know what is the hope of his calling, and what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints….’”
She kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I let my mind wander until the class was finally over, smiled and said hello to several women whose names I would never remember, and followed Dee into the sanctuary.
People crowded in, and I picked up a hymnal and turned to page 235 as I was instructed to do. The piano played, and the man at the front said, “We’ll sing the first, second, and last.”
I followed along to a song called “Blessed Redeemer,” actually attempting to sing because I knew it would please Dee. I tried to do so quietly, however, lest anyone but her should find out I couldn’t carry a tune. After singing two hymns devoid of the third verse, we sat.
I replaced the book in the cubby on the back of the pew in front of me and looked to the raised pulpit. I took a sharp, involuntary breath. Astonished, I glanced at Dee, but her focus remained ahead, her face peaceful.
Of course, she’d known all along. She’d known, but didn’t tell me. I returned my gaze forward, blinking a few times to be sure my imagination had not run off without me again. The scene remained the same.
There in the pulpit stood Luke. The same Luke I’d run into on the stairs, the same handyman I’d been flustered over, the same man who walked into Dee’s house without knocking. I just stared. The handyman was the preacher, too?
A sinking feeling settled in my gut. Any resolve I’d had to distance myself from this man now doubled. Letting myself be attracted to a handsome handyman in the wrong state was one thing. Thinking the preacher was hot was something entirely different. And, looking at him in a soft gray suit, a deep green shirt, and a black necktie seriously tested my resolve. Luke looked over the crowd, his dark hair combed back and no longer falling into his eyes.
I sat back in my seat, suddenly interested in what he might have to say. Truthfully, if anyone else were behind the pulpit I would have tuned him out. Luke, however, now had my interest piqued.
“Today we are going to talk about forgiveness.”
I inwardly groaned.
“Turn with me to Matthew chapter six, verses fourteen and fifteen.”
I didn’t even bother pulling out a Bible from the pew in front of me. I just watched Luke as he read. “For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
He paused for a moment and looked over the congregation. His eyes found mine for just an instant before moving on. Luke placed both hands on either side of the pulpit and spoke in earnest.
“When you harbor resentment in your heart, it can poison your soul. It can fill you with darkness. It grows bigger and bigger, until the walls you’ve built to contain it can no longer hold it back from controlling every area of your life.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I knew that monster. Yes, I knew the dragon well. But, Luke was naive to think pretending the hurt never happened would make the demons go away. Maybe that worked when someone ran through your flower bed, but not for anything real. Not for anything like what I’d been through. But then, how could I expect a man who grew up in Mayberry to know anything about real pain? Not his fault, really. He just didn’t know what he was talking about. I missed everything else he said, as my own thoughts clamored for my attention.
At the end of the sermon, Luke stepped down from the pulpit and stood at the front of the sanctuary to talk to anyone who wanted to be prayed for. The song director stood behind the pulpit and asked us to turn to hymn number 395, “Just As I Am.”
I read the words but couldn’t sing them. I stared at the page, refusing to do anything else. My emotions churned within me. The burning need to escape flared. I’d hoped only to suffer through one closing song, but then Luke nodded to the lady playing the organ, and she switched to another melody.
My stomach dropped. I looked down at the page. The words were not a part of hymn 395. Apparently, the congregation switched to a song they must all know by heart, something hauntingly familiar.
Dee’s eyes were closed. “I surrender all. I surrender all,” she sang. I watched her closely. There was no mistaking the slow, sweet melody. “All to Jesus I surrender, I surrender all.”
I was quite certain I’d never heard this hymn before. How, then, had it ended up in my dream? Worse, was it the song I’d hummed in Dee’s kitchen this morning? I glanced up and saw Luke looking right at me. I quickly averted my eyes, desperate for church to be over.
Finally, Luke asked for a man in the front to pray over the congregation. I didn’t hear a word he said over the pulsing sound of blood in my ears. The gnawing in my stomach increased. Unwarranted panic, like the kind that often overtakes me when I am in large crowds or small spaces, increased the rhythm of my breathing.
Not waiting for Dee, I ducked out of the first set of double doors, only to find Luke guarding the exit. He extended his hand to me. I grasped it, hoping mine wasn’t shaking. I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m glad you were able to make it.” He smiled at me. I figured there would be jest in his eyes, evidence of the joke he and Dee had played on me, but I only saw sincerity. That unnerved me even more. Now I really had nothing to say. Luke released my hand and looked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze and noticed the line of people behind me, all waiting to shake Luke’s hand on the way out the door.
I stepped into the sunlight and endured the curious stares of the church people as they filed out and gathered in small groups to chitchat on the front lawn. Where on earth was Dee?
A woman descended the staircase and headed straight for me. She wore a green tailored suit with enormous shiny buttons; tan stockings; and low-heel pumps. Slightly thick, though not really overweight, she moved quickly around the stragglers who stood in her way. I briefly considered ducking for cover, but seeing her eyes trained on me and her determined gait, I figured escape was futile.
“Well, hello there!” The woman beamed with a smile too big to be genuine. “You must be Adela’s long-lost niece no one’s ever heard of.”
I pressed my lips together. How much did this town already know about me? I tilted my head. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“Hmm, well, Adela and I were good friends, you know. Good friends.”
How should I know? I’d never met either of them. “Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you….”
“Gloria. Gloria McCrae.”
I nodded. “Ms. McCrae. I’m Emily Burns.”
“Family was important to Adela, sure enough. Too bad she had such a hard time with them.” She eyed me. “Did you talk to her much? She always liked it when family called.”
“No, I never met her.”
Her over-plucked eyebrows rose. “Really? Well, my, my, isn’t that something?”
I wasn’t sure what she meant. Her thinly veiled condescension plucked at my already frayed nerves. The muscles in my jaw tightened, but just as I opened my mouth to tell her it was none of her business, a hand settled on my elbow.
“Good morning, Gloria,” Dee said sweetly. “I see you’ve already hunted down Emily.”
Gloria bristled. “I was just talking to her about Adela, telling her what close friends we were.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you were. Seeing as you cared for Adela so much, I know you must be thrilled to meet her family. You know how much she loved her family.” There was something in Dee’s tone I c
ouldn’t quite place. Her expression was pleasant, but there was a glint in her eyes.
“Well, of course!” Gloria’s voice rose an octave, and it suddenly hit me I’d seen this woman before. She’d stormed out of Buford’s office the day I arrived.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Dee said, “Emily and I need to be heading home. We’ll see you again next Sunday.” Her slight emphasis on the last word almost made it seem she wanted to be sure she didn’t see Gloria before Sunday.
I waited until we were safely in the car before I voiced my curiosity. “Who is that woman?”
“Gloria McCrae. She was a caretaker for Adela.” Dee put the car in drive and focused on the road.
“Oh.” I expected Dee to say more, but she didn’t. She was unusually quiet, so I let it go. Instead, I moved on to the next burning question. “Why didn’t you tell me Luke was the preacher?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“How was I supposed to know to ask? Am I just supposed to ask every man I meet if he happens to be the preacher? I thought he was the handyman.”
“He is.”
“And the preacher?”
“And the preacher.”
“He’s both?” I was starting to feel a little stupid, but Dee certainly wasn’t elaborating.
“Yes, dear. He’s both. Being a small-town preacher doesn’t pay the bills. He has to have another job, too. They call it bi-vocational.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I had the feeling this was all very amusing to Dee, but she showed no sign of it. I sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I stared out the window until we pulled in the driveway.
Dee parked the car and turned to look at me. “I think God has you here for a reason.”
I just stared at her. I’d grown somewhat accustomed to her forthrightness, but I still wasn’t sure how to respond to it. I didn’t want to ask her to explain, either, for fear of what she might say.
“I doubt that,” I said and hopped out before she could say anything else. “I doubt that very seriously.”
The next morning I once again stood outside of Ironwood, looking up at the giant structure. I’d arrived early just to rid myself of the absurd idea the house would be in full Civil War era splendor. Of course, it looked exactly the same as I remembered, chipped paint and all. The front door housed the modern doorknob that matched my key. I knew there wouldn’t be any strange voices in the house, yet I still waited on the porch for the others.
With the air already hot and sticky, I was glad I’d chosen shorts, even though I hated the way my pasty white legs looked in them. Buford pulled up right on time, with Kristin following closely behind and boiling up dust.
She bustled right up to me, catching me in a hug before I had a chance to avoid it. I awkwardly returned the embrace. “I saw you at church on Sunday,” she said, “but I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before you left.”
“You go to Luke’s church, too?”
“Sure do. He’s a good preacher. He doesn’t mind stepping on toes when he needs to.”
I smiled. That seemed to fit. I was just surprised Dee let him do it. I looked at Buford’s car. He sat in the front seat, looking at some sort of paperwork.
“The inspector should be here any minute. I asked Luke to come with him,” Kristin said.
My brow scrunched. “What for?”
“To see what repairs might be needed. Buford said Luke could fix any problems, and I figured it would be good for him to be here to talk to the inspector, so he knows what needs to be done now and what can wait.”
It made sense. But, it still would have been nice for someone to ask me about it before inviting him. “Is Luke the only handyman in town?”
“Pretty much.”
Well, that explained it, then. He was the only choice; there wasn’t actually some huge conspiracy to make me uncomfortable, even though it felt like it. I was still sorting out my feelings when an old pickup pulled in. Luke jumped out, wearing faded jeans and a black tee-shirt. I tried not to notice how good he looked in it.
“Mornin’ ladies!”
“Good morning, Luke!” Kristin called. I just nodded.
Buford got out, holding a folder in his hands. “Morning, everyone.”
We all returned his greeting as everyone gathered together. Thankfully, the inspector arrived before we ran out of small talk. He stepped onto the porch, a tall, thin man with thick-rimmed glasses perched on his bird-like nose. He gave a curt nod. “Hello. My name is Alex Barton, and I will be doing your inspection today.” His deep baritone struck me as out of kilter with his appearance.
He wasted no time on introductions and immediately asked to be let into the house. We followed him inside. For nearly half an hour he walked around the house and property, poking his head into every crevice and making notes on his clipboard. The four of us followed silently behind him like a string of ducklings.
“Well, the house looks pretty good, considering the age,” Alex said when we returned to our original place on the front porch. “The worst of it is going to be the plumbing. I can see early signs of some problems. Most likely, you’re going to have to have all of that replaced if you are looking at selling. A new roof is in order, too, since that one is nearly twenty years old. Other than that, everything looks structurally sound.”
My stomach sank. A new roof and new plumbing sounded expensive and time-consuming. I cleared my throat. “How much and how long is that going to take?”
Alex focused on me for the first time. “You’ll have to get an estimate for that. As for my part, factoring in the repairs that need to be done, the current market and location, I’d say this is the property value, give or take.” He thrust the clipboard toward me. “If you’ll just sign here, please.”
I felt a new surge of hope. If I used the cash Adela left to do the repairs, I would still come out with a sizeable profit.
Alex wished everyone a good day and scurried off to his next appointment. I looked at Kristin. She returned my gaze. “I agree with him on the value. The question is, will you be able to find a buyer looking to spend that much in this area? I don’t know how many people would be looking to relocate here, unless they work in Tupelo or maybe even Starkville. Even then, it may be difficult.”
I shifted my gaze to Luke. He answered my question before I could ask. “I’d have to dig around a little to see exactly how much work those pipes would take. Doing a complete change out and a new roof is going to be expensive.” His eyes bore into mine. “But I’ll give you the best deal I can. If you’re willing to help do the work, we can save there, too.”
I wouldn’t be much help, but I dipped my chin in thanks anyway.
“Then there’s the aesthetics, too,” Kristin said. “Don’t forget you’ll need some new paint and some general maintenance before it’s ready to go on the market. If that’s still what you want to do.”
“Yes, I’m afraid there’s not really any other choice. I can’t keep it.” I looked at the house, trying to ignore the bizarre draw I felt to it.
Kristin looked at her watch. “Well, I guess we’re done here. Emily, are you still good for lunch with me? We can go over what all needs to be done to put it on the market.”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
Buford spoke up, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Perhaps you can meet me at my office around one? I have a few things to go over with you as well.”
“Of course, I said. “See you then.” Buford got in his car and pulled away.
I turned my attention back to the other two. Kristin was watching Luke, who appeared to be studying the chipping paint by the front door. We stood in awkward silence for a moment.
Was I missing something? “Um, so, are we going to lunch?”
Kristin’s eyes fluttered over to Luke, who still stood with his hands in his pockets looking at something on the house. She grinned at me. “If you’ll just give me a second to make a call, we can go in my truck a
nd I’ll bring you back here afterward.”
“Sure,” I said. She hurried down the steps and to her truck. When she closed the door and started the engine, Luke cleared his throat.
“I was wondering if you’d like to set up a time to go over all the details with me, too.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Yeah, I suppose that would be good. Do you want to meet me back here sometime later this afternoon once I’ve finished looking at whatever Buford needs to show me?”
“Well, I already looked at everything here….” His voice trailed off and he looked down at me with those striking blue eyes. I waited dumbly for him to continue. “So, well,” he cleared his throat. “I though perhaps you’d like to discuss it over dinner.”
“At Dee’s?”
“Well, no.” He looked frustrated, and it suddenly dawned on me. Was this man trying to ask me out? Were preachers even allowed to do that?
“I, um, don’t know if that’s….”
“Oh, no. I don’t mean it like that. Just as contractor and client. Also, I thought I’d show you some of the good spots in town. Dee’s a great cook, but we have some good restaurants, too.”
“Oh. Well, sure. Yeah. I’d like to try something local.” I felt like an idiot. Why did this man get me so flustered?
“How about we meet at Macon’s at six tonight? Dee can tell you where it is.”
“Sure. See you then.” He left the porch and got in his truck. As soon as he disappeared down the driveway, Kristin honked the horn. I eyed her when I got in, but to her credit, she didn’t ask any questions. We talked about Dee and the weather until she pulled up to a small shop in a row of businesses just off the main street. The name read “Lava Java” on the wooden sign hanging from the door. It looked like a coffee shop to me, but I didn’t argue.
The inside of the building was charming and eclectic. Small tables with bases made from random items hosted two or four chairs of varying sizes and styles. The walls were covered in black and white photographs and a bakery counter stood near the back wall. A display case of handmade jewelry stood beside it.
Heir of Hope: Return to Ironwood Plantation (Ironwood Plantation Family Saga Book 2) Page 8
