Just the Way You Are (Seasons of Hope Book 2)

by Jessica R. Patch

  “I’m wondering who I’m seeing.” She stepped up and touched his cheek, setting off an explosion of feelings. “Forget to shave?”

  “I’m growing a beard. I thought, why not?”

  She gave him a sassy grin and nodded. “I’m diggin’ it, Pastor.”

  Then it was staying. Period. End of story.

  “See ya on the front row.” She glided across the floor. How did she manage to do that in those stilts? Betsy and Leonard Davis stood with several board members and their wives. Pretty sure it wasn’t the beard that had them in a snoot. He headed for the front row where he sat beside a few deacons. Next to them sat Knox and Eden Everhart, Sierra Bradley and a couple board members, but today Audrey sat sandwiched between Eden and Sierra.

  His youth pastor opened up with prayer, then the worship band took over.

  Songs of redemption and hope reminded him of Audrey’s pain—though she didn’t look pained when she arrived. But people dressed up hurt in all sorts of ways. Dresses and heels, a grin and witty words didn’t mean it wasn’t simmering under the surface, ready to explode when she was alone. When others couldn’t see.

  He prayed the lyrics would take root in her heart and cover the shame and hurt that he’d perceived earlier. After worship, he stepped behind the pulpit, trying hard to look at all his congregants and not just the flowery beauty on the front row. What had possessed her to do that?

  His heart hammered with power as he spoke of trying to hide from God. A perfect word timed by God. He used Adam and Eve hiding in the garden, covered with fig leaves, because of the shame. He glanced at Audrey, her eyes never leaving his face.

  “God said, ‘Where are you?’ because he wanted them to come out of hiding. Maybe you’re hiding today because of shame. Maybe you’ve missed the mark and you don’t think God wants you anymore or that you can be productive again. Maybe you feel like you can’t have all the dreams you once dreamed, but know that God has inked out all our sin. We don’t have to cover ourselves with fig leaves. God has clothed us in right standing with Him because of the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross. Who told you that you were naked? That’s what God asked them. Who told you that you should feel shame? That it should keep nagging at you until you feel so condemned you can hardly hold up your head.”

  Audrey’s eyes filled with tears and he wanted to march off that stage and smother her with love. Music cut the heavy moment. Loud and shrill. Was that…“Funky Town?”

  Audrey’s face turned ten shades of red as she rifled inside her purse while the 1980s song belted and carried through the crowd. A few giggles and scoffs could be heard.

  Finally, she jumped up, hung her head and raced down the center aisle as the music continued to ask if she could be taken to Funky Town.

  Betsy Davis caught his eye and gave him the I-told-you-so expression.

  He continued preaching, working not to miss a beat. Mostly he hoped and prayed Audrey wouldn’t slip back to her usual seating toward the back of the sanctuary. Seeing her face front and center had given him a measure of confidence and comfort he couldn’t quite explain.

  After service, he searched for her, but she must have left the property. Of all the moments for her phone to ring, it would have to come on a solemn moment that was speaking to her soul. God, please don’t let that word be snatched away from her. I know You were speaking. It moved her. I know it.

  Gabe headed back into the sanctuary to grab his Bible, notes, and the bottle of water he left on the pulpit, but he stared at the front row. Where she’d been, then vanished.

  “Hey, you coming to lunch today?” Eden asked. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

  “Sorry. I’m—have you seen Audrey?”

  Eden grinned. “Not since she got taken to Funky Town. That’s Sharon and Dotty’s ringtone. Must be work-related. I know you know,” she said in a whisper.

  “Yeah. She told me they were selling.” He rubbed the knotted muscles at the base of his neck. “She sat in the front row today.”

  Eden arched an eyebrow. “Yes. I was there.”

  “Why?” Had Eden conned her into it? Was it for him? Hope swelled. What if it was for him? Had he finally tunneled through the friend-zone?

  “Gabe, remember when you told me you were interested in her?”

  Gabe smiled and glanced around the sanctuary. It had mostly cleared out. “Yes, and you were surprised.” He cocked his head. “Did you…did you tell her?”

  Eden curled her nose. “No. You know I’d never do that. But it’s been two years. I’m thinking one of us should. So, you coming to lunch or not?”

  “Not today. Thanks, though.”

  Eden nodded and headed toward the foyer where Knox stood with Eli. If it had been work-related, maybe Audrey was at The Petal Pusher. Maybe she was hungry.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sun streaked through the clouds, making for a perfect Monday—the weather unseasonably warm, just as the meteorologists predicted. Sometimes they did get it right. Audrey carried a vase of multi-colored tulips as she reverently walked across the ground that had hardened since the last big storm. The sparse and brittle grass was barely turning green. Oak trees created a walled-in fortress around the small cemetery.

  Birds twittered back and forth and sprung from the branches of trees in a game of chase. New baby leaves rustled in the distance. A crow cawed.

  Dotty had opened the shop so she could come here. To April’s grave.

  She paused at her grandfather and grandmother’s grave then stopped at April’s headstone.

  Audrey had set off a chain reaction of hurt and disappointment in her family. The first trigger happened when April died. It tore their family apart. It had been Audrey’s fault.

  Sinking to her knees, she moved the lilies over and placed the vase of tulips down. “I haven’t forgotten you, April. I won’t forget. I’m still so sorry.” She collapsed on her behind, drew her knees up and rested her head on them. If she’d only listened to her dad.

  “Audrey?”

  Audrey sniffed and raised her head. Gabe stood a few feet away, a soft light filtering through his eyes. “I’m sorry. I called Dotty and she said you might be out here. I looked for you after church yesterday, but you kind of disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  The last thing Gabe should have been doing was hunting her down, but her insides warmed anyway.

  “I wasn’t home.”

  “I know. I checked everywhere I thought you might be. Where did you go?”

  She’d been humiliated. And to find out Dotty’s call was nothing more than a butt-dial made it even worse. An accident. Sheesh. She’d been on the brink of believing maybe she could be free from the drape of shame that hung over her like a soiled curtain.

  Audrey had marched into church on time ready to show Gabe the support and respect he deserved. A flutter had filled her heart when his eyes lit up over her early arrival, and if she were being honest, deep down she’d hoped that she could actually rise to the occasion and be pastor’s wife material. Be the kind of woman that would make Gabe proud. The kind that sat in the front row and championed her man. Okay, he wasn’t exactly her man.

  Oh, and the beginnings of a beard. Talk about flutters. She nearly fanned herself before she remembered he was standing over her. Looking. For her. Even though she’d disrupted the entire service. Messed with others who might be getting a good word downloaded into their soul.

  Proving her point. She had no business hoping for something that was too far from her grasp.

  “Audrey? Do…do you want me to go?”

  Yes and no. She patted the ground beside her. “I drove around. I’m so sorry. I thought my phone was on vibrate.”

  “Dotty told me she called you by accident. It’s okay. Funky Town. I get it.” He leaned his shoulder against hers. “Do you have a ringtone for all your friends?” He gave her a nudge; she was moved at his attempt to lighten the mood, to extend grace. So Gabe.

  “Yes.”

&
nbsp; “What’s mine?”

  Her cheeks ballooned with heat. “Centerfield by John Fogerty.” She covered her face and laughed. “You can really play ball, Gabe. Plus the whole God is your Coach and He puts you in to play.” She shook her head and refused to look him in the eye. “I don’t know. I’m ridiculous.”

  “Audrey,” his voice sounded like smooth, delicious Nutella on warm toast. When he didn’t continue, she peeked up at him. A lopsided grin spread over his face. “I’m a fan of ridiculous.”

  Did that mean he was her fan?

  She had the sudden urge to kiss him. Just climb up on her knees, wrap her arms around his neck and let it fly. Up and over and out of the park.

  Instead she swallowed the crazy thought. “Why are you looking for me? Did we have a prayer garden appointment?” One more thing she’d dropped the ball on?

  “No. I’m concerned about you. I care about you. You ran out of the church and never came back. Phones ring all the time. I didn’t miss a beat.” He covered her hand resting on her knee. “You can talk to me. I want you talk to me. About anything. Everything.”

  A cold sweat broke out on her neck. She glanced at his hand on her knee. Supportive. Warm. Yesterday’s sermon came back about not having to feel shame. He’d traipsed all over the world searching for her. She owed him some truth. And they were here. At April’s grave. She’d never been here with anyone else. She was glad it was Gabe.

  Audrey pointed to the flowers. “That night we’d been playing ‘school’ in the garage. We weren’t supposed to be out there because of Dad’s tools. It was cold and we turned on the space heater. I turned it on, and I forgot to turn it off. It caused the fire. I got out. April…April crawled under the bed. I thought she escaped, too. But I knew she hid under there when she was afraid. I should have known to look there before running. I just ran.”

  Gabe squeezed her hand and drew her against him. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I should have told them she might be under the bed, but I didn’t. I just watched my house burn and my sister die.”

  His head rested on top of hers, his minty breath filling her senses, along with his linen fresh scent. “You were afraid. In shock. Audrey, have you been carrying this all these years? Is that why you come out here every few days and replace her flowers? Out of guilt? To punish yourself?”

  She was guilty. “When the shop closes, what will I do?” She settled against him. “I can’t let her think I’ve forgotten. Wilted flowers say I have.”

  “Wilted flowers do not say that. She’s in heaven probably dancing in meadows of flowers. She’s not grieving or mad at you. Flowers, like life, bloom and wilt.”

  “She shouldn’t have wilted.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “She loved you and you loved her. You can’t carry this guilt, Audrey. You’ll end up like the flowers you hate so much. The wilted ones.”

  He was right, but she’d brought flowers out for so many years, it’d feel wrong to stop. “I dismantled my family. My dad kind of vanished. He was there, but he wasn’t and then he left and actually vanished. If I’d only listened.”

  Gabe turned Audrey toward him and framed her face. “He made the choice to leave. You didn’t do that. Don’t you dare blame yourself for breaking up your family. He couldn’t handle his grief. He left. You did this.” He pointed to the flowers. “You did this. Audrey,” he whispered and cradled her against him. “Can I pray for you?”

  She nodded and he prayed—his words like a garden of sweetness and beauty; it moved her to fresh tears even through the wave of comfort that covered her like a glorious summer day.

  “Amen,” he murmured. “Tell me you’ll come back to church Sunday. Tell me you’ll sit in the front row again. I liked it.”

  “You did?” She swiped under her eyes. “I admit I did, too, until Dotty’s butt dial.” She sighed. If every day could feel this peaceful. At this moment she had a confidence that most days she lacked. Not necessarily because of Gabe—though he was definitely a big part. But God had really poured out the peace until she felt content. Able. Ready to face something new. “You’ve been so good for this church…for…the community.” For her. “I just wanted to show you an extra measure of support, and I was going to bake cookies but Eden reminded me I can’t, so…”

  “You wanted to bake me cookies?” His voice caught, and he ran his thumb across her cheek bone.

  “Chocolate chip,” she murmured. She licked her lips as a delightful shiver raced through her veins in anticipation. Could pastors even kiss? Like did they even know how? She inched closer. “Do you like chocolate chip cookies?”

  “My favorite,” he whispered and brushed his lips against hers. Feather soft and hesitant as if asking for silent permission to press further. He dizzied her head, and the warmth of his lips brought a rush of adrenaline through her body. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite like this.

  She slid her hands up his arms and coiled them around his neck, the feel of his soft hair at the nape of his neck tickling her fingertips. Opening her eyes, she gazed into his and he smiled against her lips before kissing her again, a soft, heady exploration, laced with a tenderness that unraveled her.

  Audrey had been taken in desire and lust, but she’d never felt the glory of a kiss laced in honor and respect. Even when it flamed and ignited into a sizzling passion all over her skin, when his hands snaked into her hair and gripped with easy force, when he nipped at her bottom lip, nuzzled her nose with his, cupped her face and repeated the heated cycle again and again until she couldn’t breathe. Gabe never crossed a line or let his hands roam her body. The thrill was exhilarating.

  Hope soared.

  What if she could change? What if she could become everything he wanted and needed? She could. She’d figure out a way. Make it happen. And she’d start now.

  ***

  Gabe had looked into Audrey’s eyes and not seen vulnerability, but permission and anticipation, and that had sent a fire blazing through him. She’d been in the front row for him. She wanted to bake him cookies, which meant she was thinking of him.

  There was no doubt she cared and was attracted to him.

  A woman didn’t kiss like this if there wasn’t a spark, and this was more than a spark; it was a nuclear explosion. But he wouldn’t overstep or make a mistake. Instead, he reveled in the softness of her lips, the taste that was all Audrey—flowery meadows and springtime with a hint of strawberry. Her slight gasp sent a wild haze through him, the way her lips fit perfectly between his. It felt like an answered question, a hope fulfilled, a dream turned reality. In this moment, right here, she belonged to him and he’d never wanted anything more.

  If he wasn’t so out of breath he might find himself confessing his love and begging her to be his wife, but that was too fast. Too soon. But he did love her. Not because of the kiss. This dazzling kiss that only confirmed who Audrey was. Passionate, generous, giving, and fascinating. Everything about her fascinated him.

  He worked to memorize the taste of her tongue, the tenderness of her neck, the silkiness of her hair, the way she offered him this moment. He burned it into his brain and prayed for a lifetime more as he envisioned their lives together in pictures and flashes, time ebbing. Growing old. Children. Grandchildren.

  Audrey broke away and grinned, her breath raspy. “Well, that answered that question.”

  He pecked her lips. “You had questions?” He couldn’t help himself, he kissed her again—slow, lazy—and whispered against her lips, “That means you’ve been thinking about kissing me.”

  “Oh, maybe a time or two.” Gazing up at him, cloudy eyes as if she were drunk, hypnotized and thrilled him. “Have you been thinking about kissing me?”

  “For years, Audrey. For years.” He drew her to him and lavished her with sweetness, hoping she’d feel it to her toes. “Exactly what question has been answered?” Where did they go from here? He only saw one conclusion. He didn’t throw kisses around. He hadn’t even kissed a woman since
his late wife.

  “Pastors can definitely kiss.” She laughed, and he plucked a lavender tulip from the vase and stroked her cheek.

  “I’m a man first.”

  “Yes. You. Are.” She sighed and his heart burst with pride. That was the dreamy sigh of a woman kissed to satisfaction.

  “You’re gonna be late for work.”

  “I’m late for everything, Gabe.” She snickered, stood up, and wobbled. Grinning, he steadied her. He’d done that—sent her knees weak.

  “That you are.” They walked toward their cars together, the sun shining down and birds singing. Everything was right, but a hint of fear had him hesitating to ask the “what next” question. He opened Audrey’s car door and toyed with her fingers. “Can we have dinner tonight?”

  “Sounds good. I—I could cook. Or order in.” She gave him a hopeful smile.

  After what just happened, if it happened again and they were alone, he might not have as much resolve. He’d had a taste now, and the woman drove him wild. “How about we meet at our usual spot.”

  “Our spot.” She beamed. “I like that. I also never get tired of pizza.”

  He caressed her cheeks and around her mouth where the beginning of his beard had left its mark. He only hoped it was gone by the time she reached town, or the talk would be he’d slept with her at her sister’s grave and that’d get him the boot immediately.

  Now that they were dating, which he assumed they were, they had to tread lightly. Especially with many board members not on Audrey’s side. But he’d keep that to himself. No need to worry her. Besides, they were all bark and no bite.

  “Oh, I meant to ask if you got two other judges for the Easter bonnet parade.”

  “I’m still working on it. Rest assured, you’ll have your three non-biased judges.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you, Gabe?” She slid into the driver’s seat. “See you tonight.”

  “Drive carefully.”