She reached up to the top shelf to retrieve the silver-filigree keepsake box. Inside the red velvet lining, she dug until she found the card.
Thank you for your gesture of kindness.
My family and I will never forget your thoughtfulness.
May God bless you,
Grayson Sterling
Tracing her fingers over the handwritten, masculine script, she remembered the white rose casket spray she and Helen had lovingly put together. With no bill. She placed the card on top, closed the lid, and put the box away.
She checked the doors one more time and hurried to her car. The fuel gauge demanded her attention. Though she loved her hometown, it would be nice not to have to drive seven miles just to get gas.
As she entered Rose Bud, the cemetery beckoned. Not a living soul stirred. She pulled into the gravel parking lot.
The heavy iron gate groaned as she stepped through. With no clue where Grayson Sterling’s wife was buried, Adrea strolled across the hardened earth covered with dormant yellowed grass. Indented graves interspersed with more recent, rounded mounds. Row upon row of aged, weather-beaten, and faded tombstones mingled with dust-spattered glossy newcomers.
A bird burst from a spindly bush. She pressed a hand to her heart. With a panicked beat of wings, the sparrow flew away.
Just as she was about to give up, she caught a glimpse of the white roses. They stood out among the other vibrant flowers and led her to a grave marked by a large, polished headstone.
Adrea remembered Sara’s youthful beauty well, from the newspaper articles about the senseless hit-and-run accident that took her life. After running into the family left behind, seeing the cold marble monument brought the tragedy into sharp focus once again.
With a shiver, she read the epitaph: BELOVED DAUGHTER, WIFE, MOTHER: GONE TO MEET JESUS.
At least Grayson Sterling knew where to seek comfort for his grief. With a heavy heart, for someone besides herself for a change, she trudged back to her car.
A profound thought wrenched her gut.
“God, are You shoving him in my face to show me something? That’s it. You’re showing me that he’s lost more than I ever thought about losing and he’s going on, preaching Your sermons and raising his son—while I wrap myself in self-pity and bitterness, coveting other people’s weddings. I lost a man I didn’t need. A man who couldn’t be faithful and couldn’t be strong enough to beat the bottle.”
She dropped to her knees on the cold ground.
“Oh Lord, forgive me for my selfishness and be with Wade. He needs You to help him get sober again. He knows You, Lord. Help him to let You reintroduce Yourself.” As she prayed for the man who’d broken her heart, the bitterness melted away. Forgiveness settled in her soul. A forgiveness she hadn’t realized she needed to give. “Thank You, Lord. Thank You.”
Before standing she added, “And, Lord, please be with Grayson and his little boy. Their world shattered two years ago, and I know they’re still suffering. Give them comfort and strength, as only You can. Amen.”
Grayson turned into the driveway of a rambling, old, two-story house on the outskirts of Romance. He rechecked the address. It had to be the right place, but it certainly didn’t look like apartments. Yet, there were several cars parked out front.
A large enclosed balcony gracing one entire side of the house erupted with flowers, despite the chilly winds of late February, while only a few potted plants or lawn chairs dotted the wraparound porch. Must be divided into separate living quarters. A shame. He loved aged, spacious homes and hated seeing them cut up into apartments or converted into businesses.
A siren moaned in the distance. He took several deep breaths.
Stop being absurd. Every ambulance doesn’t carry someone I love inside.
The siren drew close. Pressure welled in his chest, threatening to burst through. The ambulance wailed past. He prayed. Relax…inhale…exhale.
Think. Sis is in the middle of catering a wedding. Dayne is at Mom and Dad’s house. None of them would be on the road right now. The pressure eased.
Regaining control, he sat a few minutes longer, then stepped from the car.
Inside, he saw a long hallway with a door on each side and a staircase in the middle. He climbed the steps, located the right number, and rang the bell.
When the door barely opened, it wasn’t a young seminary graduate who greeted him. Instead, he peered through the crack at a child.
“May I help you?” the little girl asked.
“Does Mark Welch live here?”
“Yes, but he’s in the shower. You can wait if you want.” She started to close the door. “Sorry, but you’re a stranger.”
“That’s true. I’m fine out here.”
If only he could have gotten in touch with Mark. Moving the meeting up, with someone he’d never met before, might make Mark feel uncomfortable.
Within minutes, Grayson heard a male voice. The chain released and the door opened. A man, his dark hair still damp, beckoned him inside with a frown.
“She’s out in the greenhouse.” The man waved toward glass doors. “I’d like to give you the third degree, but I have to leave soon for an appointment. Count on it next time, if there is a next time. For now, you’re welcome to go on out. Just watch yourself.”
The man, presumably Mark, darted down the hall, leaving Grayson no chance to explain his presence. Moments later, the whir of a blow-dryer sounded from somewhere.
Unsure of what to do, he walked around the island, separating the floralthemed living room from the sunny yellow kitchen, toward patio doors. A woman knelt inside the glassed-in balcony, surrounded by an explosion of colorful blossoms.
She worked with the various plants, unaware of him. Potting soil streaked her red T-shirt and blue jean shorts, smudged her face, legs, and feet. With her long brunette hair pulled into a high ponytail and dirt everywhere, she was beautiful.
The splendor of the small, carefully tended garden came nowhere near the beauty of the woman in its midst. He studied her profile, the slight upward tilt of her small nose, the soft curve of her lips. Red polish adorned all twenty nails. Despite the grime, she exuded elegance.
Something familiar about her tugged at him. Adrea Welch. Of course, Mark and Adrea Welch. Adrea Welch is beautiful—and married. Grayson backed away from the door.
He didn’t remember the deacons saying Mark was married with a child. He’d slogged through so many résumés they’d all begun to run together. And he’d never been detail oriented.
One detail stood out. Adrea was not available.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. Great. I’m betraying my wife by finding this woman attractive and on top of that, she’s married.
The pressure started to build in his chest once more.
Why should I care if this woman is available? She’s simply the florist. End of story.
His left temple throbbed.
Sara.
He’d never considered whether a woman was single or not—had never cared, even since his wife’s death.
Bewildered and a bit frightened at such foreign thoughts, he considered leaving.
Adrea looked up and saw him.
Acting quickly, so she wouldn’t realize he’d been watching her, Grayson opened the door. The moist potting soil mixed with the perfume emitted by dozens of different sweet-smelling flowers in the surprisingly warm room.
“Hello.” Surprise reverberated in her tone. Her arched brows drew together. With the sun still peeking over the roof, she shielded her eyes to look up at him.
He forced words from his constricted throat. “Mark has an appointment at the church with one of my deacons, who can’t make it. I tried to call but didn’t get an answer.”
“You’re here to interview him?”
“I decided to come and invite him to a casual lunch instead. I tried to let Mark know about the change in plans.”
Adrea retrieved the cordless phone from a soil-strewn bench. “I guess th
e battery is low—or filled with grit.”
Grayson concentrated on the flowers surrounding them. Greenhouse lights warmed pink orchids, white lilies, purple irises, and a whole host of others he couldn’t identify.
The young girl, maybe a few years older than Dayne, sat on a redwood bench with a terra-cotta pot between her bare feet. Bent almost double, she planted bulbs. If only he’d noticed her before. She’d probably seen him watching Adrea.
“This is Haylee, my—”
“We already met.” Haylee blushed. “I answered when I went in to get a drink.” The little girl wagged a finger. “But I didn’t undo the chain. I thought he was a stranger.”
“And you acted appropriately.” He smiled at the child, hoping to relieve her anxiety. “Mark told me I could wait out here.” In a roundabout way.
“Why didn’t you tell me someone was at the door, Haylee?”
The girl shrugged. “He didn’t ask for you.”
Adrea patted the child’s knee. “Next time, let me—”
The door slid open, and Mark popped his head out. “Yo, Adrea, I need help with my tie.”
“Sure, I’m coming.” She clapped her dirt-coated hands together and wiped them down the sides of her shorts. “Let’s go inside, Haylee. We’ll finish up here after Mark leaves.”
Grayson stepped aside to allow Adrea and Haylee access.
Mark waited in the kitchen, dressed in a tan suit, his hair now dry.
“Don’t come near me, Adrea. You’re covered in grime.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be washed up in a minute.”
“No time to wait.” Mark paced the living room.
“Take deep breaths and I’ll be right with you.” She dashed to the sink.
In the adjoining living room, a Road Runner cartoon transfixed Haylee.
“So, Mark, you graduated in December?” Grayson leaned against the dividing island.
“Yes.” Mark frowned.
“I’m sorry, I tried to call—”
“Okay, let’s see about that tie.” Adrea returned, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
The smudges had disappeared from her face.
“Hurry, Adrea.” Mark fidgeted.
She put her hands on his shoulders. “If you’d be still, I could tie it faster.”
Grayson’s insides squirmed as the intimate scene served up a painful reminder of him and Sara on a busy Sunday morning.
“You’re not making a very good impression on Pastor Grayson.” Adrea whispered in Mark’s ear.
“Pastor Grayson?”
“Sorry, I never got around to introducing myself. I’m Grayson Sterling.”
“You’re the pastor?” Mark disentangled his tie from Adrea and turned around wide-eyed.
“Nice to meet you.” Grayson offered his hand. “My deacon, Dr. Tom Deavers, got called to emergency surgery, so I decided to meet with you instead. I studied under Professor Cummings at seminary and he highly recommended you.”
With a stiff handshake, Mark hung his head. “I’m so sorry, Pastor; I had no idea. I thought you were here to see Adrea.”
Odd. What kind of man encourages his wife to have male visitors? She must meet with vendors for the floral shop at their home often, hence the comment about the third degree.
“No need to apologize.” Despite his own discomfort, Grayson tried to put Mark at ease. “A simple misunderstanding.”
“Let me finish.” She moved in for another attempt with the tie.
“No need for the tie, either. I’m not wearing one. Relax. We’re just two men of God, having a casual lunch together.”
“It’s nice of you to suggest Mark doesn’t wear it, but if he takes off my hard work, I’ll hurt him.” She laughed, a melodious sound, and patted the tie. “There, all done.”
Grayson shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Sorry I have to leave, Haylee, but we’ll do something fun when I get back.” Mark tousled the child’s hair.
At the Rambler Café in Rose Bud, the waitress, with eyes full of sympathy, seated them at the corner table. She took their order and scurried to the kitchen. Grayson understood. Everyone felt sorry for him, whether they knew him or not. Sometimes he wished he could escape from the cloying compassion. He’d love to get away. Far away. To somewhere people didn’t know what had happened. Away from the crushing weight of his grief.
Grayson surveyed the plank walls, the shelves above each window lined with plants, antique books, and plates. His gaze strayed to the table by the window. Nothing unique about it, just melamine with black chairs. His and Sara’s table.
He took a sip of coffee. “All of the other applicants are from other states. I was hoping for someone local, so when I saw you studied under Dr. Cummings, then read his letter, I wanted to meet you.”
Mark fiddled with his paper napkin. “Listen, back at the apartment. I’m sorry I thought you were there to see Adrea. She’s had a rough time lately.”
“No harm done.” What happened to her? Anything to do with the drunk? “I need someone fast.”
Mark’s hands stilled, and his eyes met Grayson’s.
Grayson shifted on the squeaky vinyl seat. “I’m having a hard time. Now.”
“I’d really like to help you.” Sincerity shone in Mark’s gaze.
“For the past two years, I’ve gone through the motions.” Grayson cleared his throat. “My pastoring skills have slipped. I’m running on empty, and I have a hard time focusing enough to study. My son needs me. I’m all he’s got, and I’m afraid the church takes too much of me away from him. To be honest, I’m rethinking my decision to stay at Palisade.”
Mark’s jaw clenched. “I don’t feel a call to pastor.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
The waitress brought their drinks.
“I tried to convince the congregation they could get someone else. Someone who wouldn’t need an associate.” Grayson sipped his sweet tea. “But they still want me to stay. If you take the position, you’ll handle most of the evening services for a while, at least.”
“I can do that.” Mark squeezed a lemon slice into his ice water, ripped a blue packet open, and stirred its contents into his glass.
“Members of the congregation aren’t telling me their problems, health issues, nothing.” He looked out the window. A tractor putted along with a large, round hay bale on the fork. A convoy of vehicles followed. “Right now, I need to focus on Sunday morning and the pastoring part.”
“I’m your man.” Mark ran his finger around the rim of his glass. “A lot of associate pastors go into the field with the intention of moving up to senior pastor. Not me. I feel God called me to be a helpmate. To take the load off, in whatever area needed.”
“Every time I tell God I’m quitting, He gives me a good kick in the backside. Maybe He’s answering both our needs.” Grayson swallowed hard. “Let’s talk doctrine.”
The waitress approached, her tray laden with food.
While Adrea cleaned the already clean kitchen, Haylee finished watching the vintage cartoon DVD.
“Beep, beep.” The Road Runner outsmarted Wile E. Coyote once again.
Palisade had never had an associate and even when Mark told her they were looking into it, she didn’t really think it would happen. Adrea had never expected Grayson’s path to intersect with Mark’s, much less have him appear on her balcony. All manners had flown from her head. She hadn’t even asked if he wanted something to drink.
Why did Mark think he came to see me?
After the cartoon ended, they ate lunch and finished potting, then washed up. Adrea glanced at the clock.
Two hours had passed since Mark’s departure. A nice jog in the park would be good about now. Jogging always burned nervous energy and made the time pass faster.
Mark’s key clicked in the lock. He stepped inside, pulling his tie loose with a preoccupied look, revealing nothing.
“How did it go?” Sound optimistic.
�
�I don’t know. We got off to such a bad start with my assuming he was here to see you. I should have known. I guess I was hoping you’d met someone.”
“He stared at Adrea,” Haylee said.
“He did? When?” Mark frowned.
“Before she saw him, when we were out on the balcony. I watched him, standing inside the door, staring at her.”
With heart and mind racing, Adrea searched for an explanation. “I’m sure he was surprised to find me here. He’s bought flowers from the shop for several years.” She touched Mark’s arm. “It wasn’t a bad start. A little misunderstanding. No big deal.”
The furnace clicked, then kicked on with a steady hum. “Yeah, but since I didn’t realize who he was, I promised to give him the third degree in the future and sent him in your direction.”
Adrea felt the warmth of a blush. “You weren’t expecting your interviewer to show up here. I’m sure Grayson understood and thought the whole thing funny.”
“It was kind of funny.” Haylee giggled. “You should have seen the look on your face when you realized who he was.”
“See?” Adrea poked Mark in the ribs. “Tell me about lunch.”
“He just asked me doctrinal questions. At least we’re on the same wavelength there.”
“That’s good. Listen, God will put you where He wants you, no matter how your interviews go. And this is probably only the first of many.”
“In the meantime, let’s go to Searcy. Maybe the roller rink.” Mark raised an eyebrow. “Any takers?”
“Yay!” Haylee clapped her hands.
Grayson stood at the kitchen sink, ever-present coffee cup to his lips. In the backyard, Dayne cavorted with Cocoa. Giggling and barks echoed. The dog had been a blessing and kept Dayne company.
The aged panes of glass needed the cracked caulking scraped away and reapplied. Maybe storm windows, too. The old house supplied endless projects. A good thing. Kept his mind busy.
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” Grace laid the cone of white icing beside a cookie sheet lined with pastries.
Ginger and vanilla. Still warm. His hand hovered over a delicate cream puff. She’d know. She always knew.
ARKANSAS WEDDINGS: THREE-IN-ONE COLLECTION Page 3
