by Janet Dailey
“No, I was in management, in the corporate offices.”
His attention deepened. Abbie braced herself for the next question, fully anticipating that he was going to ask why she had left, but it never came. There was only the quiet study of his keen eyes.
“Thomas Wolfe was obviously wrong. It is possible to go home again,” was the only comment he made.
“I’m just a small-town girl at heart,” she admitted.
Just as the waitress came with their luncheon order, a local judge paused by their table. Abbie had known Judge Sessions since she was a small child, so she wasn’t surprised by his greeting when he noticed her.
“Hi there, little girl. How are you doing today?” He grabbed a lock of copper hair and tugged at it affectionately.
“I’m doing just fine, Judge.” She smiled up at him.
His glance went to Seth, sitting opposite from her. “Who’s this with you? A new man friend?” His teasing demand was accompanied by a broad wink.
“No, of course not.” Abbie denied this quickly, conscious that Seth was already rising to be introduced. “This is the new minister of our church, Reverend Seth Talbot. Reverend, I’d like you to meet Judge Sessions, a family friend.”
“Reverend?” The judge almost did a double take, then shook Seth’s hand and laughed. “You could have fooled me!”
“I seem to fool a lot of people,” Seth admitted with a brief glance at Abbie.
“You do look more like a man of the flesh than a man of the cloth,” the judge stated.
“I’m the usual combination of both,” Seth replied, not at all bothered by the remark.
Abbie thought the judge’s description was very accurate. Seth was made of flesh and blood, all hard, male sinew and bone. Not even the cloth could conceal that.
“I’m glad to hear it.” The judge nodded. “We need a change from sanctimonious old fogies, too old to sin anymore.” He laid a hand on Abbie’s shoulder. “Be nice to this little girl here. They don’t come any better than Abbie.” Then he was moving away from their table with a farewell wave of his hand.
This time it was Seth who brushed his knee against hers when he sat down. Abbie wondered if she wouldn’t feel more relaxed if it weren’t for this constant physical contact with him. Her skirt had inched up above her knees, but it was impossible to pull it down without touching him. He couldn’t see it, not with the table in the way, so she made no attempt to adjust it downward.
“Have you known the judge long?” Seth asked as he picked up his silverware to begin eating his chicken-fried steak with gravy smothered over it and the mound of mashed potatoes.
“Practically all my life.” She stabbed a piece of lettuce and sliced ham with her fork. “It’s not surprising that people are taken aback when they find out you’re a minister. You really should wear your collar, so they’ll at least have some advance warning.”
If he’d been wearing it, the judge wouldn’t have assumed he was her boyfriend, and the girls at the bank wouldn’t have been lusting over him—and maybe she would feel a little safer. The last seemed silly, yet Abbie felt the collar would provide some sort of protection for her.
“Do you have any idea how those stiff collars chafe your neck on a hot day like this?” Seth appeared amused by her comment.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize the way you’re dressed.” It had been a very rude thing to do—as well as presumptuous.
“It doesn’t matter.” His wide shoulders were lifted in a careless shrug. There was a dancing light in his eyes when he looked at her. “I promise you that I do wear it when I make my rounds at the hospital or call on a member of the congregation in their home.”
“In some ways, this is a very conservative community. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say,” Abbie murmured. And he seemed liberal and at the age to know about sin, as the judge had suggested.
“Right in the heart of the Bible Belt area, I know.” He nodded.
She glanced at him sharply to see if there was any mockery in his expression, but it was impossible to tell. Her gaze wandered downward to the white of his shirt. With the top three buttons unfastened, she had a glimpse of curly gold chest hairs, another example of his blatant masculinity. There was a chain of some sort around his neck, too.
“Something wrong?” Seth caught her staring, and amusement deepened the edges of his mouth without materializing into a smile.
Her pulse did a quick acceleration as Abbie dived her fork into the salad again. “You just don’t look like a minister.” She sighed the admission. His latent sensuality was too unnerving for her.
His low chuckle vibrated over her tingling nerve ends. “Let’s see … what would laymen expect a minister to look like?” he mused. “I imagine there are different categories. The intensely pious should be pale, ascetically slender, with deep-set eyes, hollow cheeks, and a fervid voice. There’d be the benevolent father figure—white hair, a round face, and a kindly air. And you have the thunderer, preaching about the wrath of God and pointing out the sinners with a long accusing finger. He’d have a beard, be very tall, with beetle brows.” Seth paused to send a mocking glance across the table. “How am I doing so far?”
“I guess I’ve been guilty of type-casting,” Abbie admitted with a faint smile.
“Everyone does it,” he assured her. “Now, my idea of a legal secretary is a woman in her forties with her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She’d wear wire-rimmed glasses and tailored business suits.” His glance skimmed her again. “Funny, you don’t look like a legal secretary.”
She laughed naturally for the first time. “I promise I won’t say it again, Reverend.” Inside, Abbie knew she’d think it each time she referred to him by his professional title.
“I’ve finally made you laugh.” His gaze focused on the parted curve of her lips. She felt them tremble from the look that was oddly physical. “We’ve cleared the first hurdle,” Seth murmured enigmatically.
“To what?” Her voice sounded breathless.
“To becoming friends,” he replied.
“Oh.” For some reason, Abbie was disappointed by his answer. She ate a few more mouthfuls of salad but found it tasteless. She couldn’t stop being conscious of the warmth of his leg against hers, and the rough texture of the denim material brushing the bareness of her calf. It became imperative to keep a conversation going. “Are you all moved in to the parsonage?”
“More or less. I still have a lot of boxes of books to unpack.” There was a rueful slant to his mouth as he glanced at her. “Have you ever been in it?”
“No.” The slight shake of her head swayed the ends of her pale copper hair.
“It’s a rambling monstrosity. There’s more rooms there than I’ll ever use. I’ll probably close up half of the house.”
“I imagine it was intended for a family to live in rather than a single man,” Abbie suggested.
“It’s practically an unwritten rule. A man is supposed to have his wife picked out before he graduates from the seminary and is assigned to his first church.” Seth didn’t appear troubled that he hadn’t followed the rule.
“But you didn’t.” She stated the obvious.
“No, I didn’t,” he agreed, and let his gaze lock on to hers.
Her throat muscles tightened. “I guess it is the expected thing—for a minister to be married, I mean,” Abbie finally managed to get the words out. “How long have you been in the ministry?” She guessed his age to be somewhere in the range of thirty-five.
“Thirteen years. I spent four of those years as an air-force chaplain.” He dropped his gaze and began slicing off a piece of steak.
“Where was your first church?” She gave in to her curiosity and began delving into his background.
“This is my first church,” he admitted.
“You mean, you were always an assistant pastor before?” A slight frown of confusion creased her forehead.
“No. I worked in the national offices of the churc
h. My work was more business-oriented than anything else.” There was a sardonic curve to his mouth. “For a variety of reasons, I requested to be assigned a church in some quiet little community. I guess I’m taking something like a sabbatical.”
“I see,” she murmured.
“I doubt it.” He showed a bit of cynical skepticism, then hid it. “But it isn’t important.” His glance suddenly challenged her. “Why is it that you aren’t married, Miss Scott?”
Her mouth opened and closed twice before she could think of a safe answer. She laughed shortly to conceal her hesitation. “Grandmother Klein says it’s because I haven’t looked hard enough.”
“Or maybe you’ve been looking in all the wrong places,” Seth suggested.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him where the right places were, but Abbie resisted the impulse. “Maybe,” she conceded, and stirred the half-eaten salad with her fork. Absently she glanced at the slim, gold watch around her wrist. Her eyes widened when she saw the time. “It’s after one. I have to get back to the office.” She laid her napkin alongside the salad plate and reached for the luncheon check the waitress had left, but Seth was quicker. Her hand ended up tangling briefly with his fingers, the contact sending a tingling shock up her arm.
“I’ll buy this time,” he insisted.
“Please,” Abbie protested. “I don’t really have time to argue. She opened her purse to take out her money, intending to leave it on the table regardless of what he said.
“You said yourself that you’re short on time,” Seth reminded her. “If you insist on paying, just put whatever you feel you owe in the collection plate this Sunday.”
“I… all right.” She gave in to his persuasion and refastened the leather flap of her purse.
“Don’t forget your father’s sandwich.” He handed her the paper sack when she started to get up without it.
“Thank you.” She gratefully took it from him. It was bad enough being late without her father having to go hungry, too.
“See you Sunday.”
The walk to her father’s office seemed longer than it was. Abbie suspected it was because she was late and trying to hurry so she wouldn’t be later than she was already. Her father was a tolerant, easygoing man, but he was a stickler for punctuality.
When she walked in, the door to his private office was closed, but she could hear muffled conversation within. His one o’clock appointment had obviously arrived. Abbie hurried to her desk, returning her purse to the lower drawer and setting his sandwich atop her desk. She swiveled her chair to the typewriter and picked up the headset to the dictaphone. Before she had it comfortably adjusted so she could hear, his door opened.
Abbie saw his irritation as he approached her desk. “I left a file on your desk.” He picked up a folder from the IN tray.
“Here’s your sandwich.” She handed him the sack.
“I’m surprised you remembered. What kept you?”
“I had lunch with Reverend Talbot.” She knew the judge would mention it if she didn’t. Besides, keeping it a secret would only mean there was something to hide. “The time just slipped away.”
He harumphed but didn’t comment. Instead he opened the sack to peer inside. “Roast beef?”
“Yes.”
There was a relenting of his stern expression. “At least you brought back my favorite.”
Chapter Four
There were more people at church than Abbie remembered seeing in a long time, especially since it wasn’t Easter or Christmas. A lot of it, she guessed, was curiosity about the new minister. Seth made a striking figure standing at the pulpit in his robe while he conducted the services.
He was halfway through his sermon before Abbie realized he wasn’t using a microphone, yet his well-modulated voice carried his words effortlessly to the back row. He talked easily, as if he was carrying on a conversation instead of giving a sermon. His gestures were natural rather than dramatic. There were even places where the congregation laughed at a bit of humor that contained a message.
It seemed that Seth had barely begun when he finished. Abbie would have liked him to go on, and it was the first time she could ever remember wishing a sermon had been longer. She stole a glance at her parents sitting in the pew beside her. Her father was looking at his watch with a stunned expression, while her mother continued to give her rapt attention to the man at the pulpit.
A few minutes later, they were following the people filing out of church. The line moved slowly as those ahead of them paused to shake hands with the minister on their way out the door.
Her father leaned sideways to murmur, “Your reverend isn’t bad, Abbie.”
“He’s not my reverend, Dad,” she corrected in an equally low voice, not liking the insinuation that she was somehow linked to Seth simply because she’d had lunch with him once.
“If you say so.” He shrugged, letting her move ahead of him as it became a single-file line to greet Seth.
Abbie waited patiently for her turn, a ripple of anticipation warming her blood while she watched Seth chatting with the couple ahead of her. The black robe seemed to make his hair look darker, more brown than gold, but the trappings of the clergy didn’t alter his male appeal.
His glance strayed to her and lingered briefly in recognition. The vivid blue of his eyes darkened with a glow that made her feel special. The look tripped her heartbeat but Abbie refused to flatter herself into believing it held any significance. She was just a familiar face, someone he knew after meeting so many strangers.
The exchange of glances lasted only a few seconds before his attention reverted to the couple. Then they were moving down the steps and it was Abbie’s turn. Close up, Seth seemed taller, more commanding in his black robe. His hand reached to take hers in greeting and continued to hold it when Abbie would have withdrawn it.
“What’s the verdict?” There was warm, mocking amusement in the downward glance that took in his preaching robes. “Will I pass?” He was teasing her about the way she had criticized him about his dress at lunch that day.
“Yes.” The corners of her mouth dimpled with a responding smile. “And you sounded like a minister, too, Reverend.”
His head was tipped back to release a throaty laugh. Its volume was subdued, but no less genuine. Seth inclined his head to her in mocking acknowledgment. “That’s the highest compliment I’ve received today. I thank you, Miss Scott.”
“You’re welcome, Reverend.” She would have moved on, but his firm grip wouldn’t relinquish her hand. There was uncertain confusion in the look she gave him, but his attention had swerved to her parents.
“Is this your father?” Seth inquired in a tone that prompted her to make the introduction.
“Yes. I’d like you to meet him.” Only when she spoke to indicate her compliance with his unspoken request did Seth release her hand. “Dad, this is Reverend Talbot. Reverend, my father, Drew Scott. You’ve met my mother already.”
“Yes, I have.” He nodded, shaking her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Scott. And it’s a pleasure to meet your husband. How do you do, Mr. Scott.”
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Reverend,” her father admitted. “Enjoyed your sermon.”
“I understand you’re a fisherman.” Seth didn’t mention that Abbie had been the source of that information, but her father guessed it. “Maybe you can point me to some good fishing holes around here later on.”
“Be happy to,” her father agreed, then added a qualification, “as long as you make sure the next time you take my secretary out to lunch, she’s not late getting back.”
“Daddy.” It was a low, impatient protest Abbie made. He made it sound like she was likely to have lunch with Seth again.
But Seth wasn’t bothered by the implication. “You have a deal, Mr. Scott.”
There were still more people behind them waiting to leave the church. Abbie was relieved when her parents moved past Seth to descend the steps with her. Not all t
he congregation had dispersed once they left the church. Some were scattered along the wide sidewalk, socializing in small groups. Her parents were too well known to go directly to their car without being stopped by someone. Since Abbie had ridden with them, she was obliged to linger on the fringes each time her father or mother paused to speak to someone.
Her glance invariably wandered back to the church doors. She recognized Fran Bigsby when she came out with her two small children. There was no sign of her husband as the bleached blonde stopped to talk to Seth. Flirt with him seemed a better description, Abbie thought cattily. There was no sign of Fran’s husband but she noticed her younger sister, Marjorie, was with her.
Suddenly, Abbie realized there were a lot of women that had attended the morning service without their husbands, especially those families who weren’t regular worshipers. She didn’t like the conclusion she was reaching because she had the unkind suspicion they hadn’t been drawn there today to welcome their new minister, but rather to meet the handsome bachelor-pastor the whole town was buzzing about.
It made her silent, and more than just a little thoughtful, while she studied her own motives. No matter how she tried, Abbie couldn’t ignore the fact that she was strongly attracted to him on a physical level. She was living in a glass house and couldn’t very well afford to throw stones at anyone else.
Abbie glanced at the clock as she rolled the finished letter out of the typewriter. It was close to noon, time enough to type an envelope and have the letter ready to mail before she left for lunch. It was Thursday, exactly a week to the day since she’d lunched with Seth.
The knowledge must have been hovering at the back of her mind, because when she heard the street door open, her heart did a little somersault. She turned, expecting to see Seth walking into the office. But Judge Sessions didn’t look like him at all. It was difficult to keep her smile from dying.
“Hello, Judge.” Abbie forced the cheerfulness into her voice. “Dad’s in his office. You can go in, if you want. He doesn’t have a client with him.”
“Maybe I didn’t come to see him,” he challenged lightly. “Maybe I’m here to see you.”
