The Pastor's Wife

by Jennifer AlLee

  That sobered her. She hugged her arms around her chest and looked him in the eye. “You left me long before I left you.”

  Her accusation pierced his heart like a poison-tipped dart. All he’d ever done was his job, a job she knew he loved when she married him. And she’d left him for doing his job well. It would be so much easier to move on and ignore their past— pretend none of it had happened. But he couldn’t let it go. “Don’t you think it's time we talked about it?”

  “No.” The word shot out of her like a bullet, and her gaze dropped to the floor. When she looked back at him, determination blazed in her eyes.

  “You and I have gone through a lot in the last few years,” she said quietly. “I know it might be impossible for you to believe, but I never wanted to hurt you and I still don’t. I have no idea why Miss Hattie thought she could manipulate us back together, but she did, and we’re stuck with it. The plain truth is that I want to make this theatre work. I need to make it work.”

  He should leave it at that. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to talk about their past. To get further involved in her current life, the life she chose to live alone, would only lead to trouble. But Nick had never been a passive bystander.

  “Why would you care about running some little theatre in a hick town? I thought you liked living in California. If you want to run a business so badly, why don’t you wait until your father hands over the coffee shop?”

  She blanched, and he wished he could recall his words. He had no idea what she’d been doing over the last six years, but he knew before she spoke that it hadn’t been easy.

  “My father died two months ago.” Her words were flat, as though she’d already expended so much energy on the subject she refused to use any more. “He did leave me the coffee shop, and a mountain of debt along with it.”

  “Maura, I’m sorry, I—”

  She held up her hand. “It's okay. I won’t bore you with the details. Let's just say the one bright spot it the situation was that Da bought a prime piece of land well before it was prime, and it's completely paid for. In fact, I’ve had several generous offers on it already.”

  “So you’re planning to sell?”

  “I thought about it, but I wasn’t sure. Not until today. See, while I can make a profit on the land, after I pay all the bills, there won’t be enough to start another business, or even buy another house in California.” He must have looked confused because she continued. “Da and I lived in the apartment over the shop, remember?”

  “Sure, of course, I do.” From the first day Nick had walked into Sullivan's Coffee Shop and watched Maura take care of a rude customer, he’d known she was the one. He’d eaten countless bowls of their signature chowder as an excuse to come by and get to know her.

  When Nick picked her up for their first date, Joe Sullivan grilled him as though they’d never met, despite their many casual conversations over a cup of coffee or a bowl of chowder. The genial coffee shop proprietor became a bit more imposing when Nick changed from a customer into the man who was dating Joe's only daughter.

  Thinking back on that time, something clicked in Nick's head. Something he hadn’t thought about in years. “This was your dream.”

  Maura's eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “To own a theatre. Remember our first date?”

  Her face softened, and she nodded. “I remember.”

  “We talked about our goals, and one of yours was to own a theatre someday.” Other memories from that day came back in a rush: licking ice-cream cones as they walked on the beach, the warmth of her hand in his, how beautiful she looked with her thick black hair whipping in the wind. Nick pushed the images aside, refusing to let nostalgia carry him away. “Is that why you’re so gung ho to do this?”

  “Hardly. I gave up silly dreams like that a long time ago.” She rubbed the back of her neck, grimacing. “The truth is Sullivan's hasn’t been a profitable business for a long time. A family-owned shop can’t compete with the national chains. For the past few months, I’ve been debating what to do, trying to figure out how to pay all the bills and still keep Sullivan's open. Then Wendell called and told me about the will. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me what I would inherit—only that it was significant. I hoped whatever Miss Hattie left me would help me start over somewhere else.” Maura laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. “I had no idea I’d be starting over here. Guess the joke's on me.”

  Despite their history, despite the hurt he still felt, Nick's heart went out to her. He wanted to encourage her, to tell her that everything would be all right. But that was a promise he couldn’t make.

  “So you’re sure about this?” he asked. “You’re absolutely certain you want to take over this theatre?”

  “You bet I am. Once I sell the coffee shop and pay the bills, I should have enough money left over to get this place back in shape. I’m not sure what I’ll do after that, but at least now I have some hope for the future.”

  Hope for the future. Boy, God sure did work in some wild, ironic ways. “I guess this is an answer to prayer for you.”

  “You would probably call it that.”

  Nick trod lightly. “What would you call it?”

  “Luck. Coincidence. I have no idea. What I do know is that if I want to get anywhere in this life, I’ve got to take care of myself.” She let her arms fall to her side and walked back up the aisle toward the door. “I’ve seen enough,” she said without looking back. “Let's go to Wendell's and finalize this.”

  So that was it. She’d made up her mind. Nick knew her well enough to realize that no amount of discussion would sway her. He should be furious at her for making a decision that would affect them both without asking what he thought. He should be concerned about how his life would change now that they’d be sharing a house. He should refuse to make his heart available for more pain and rejection. But none of that seemed as important as the bigger issue at hand. For a moment, he’d caught a glimpse of the hurt that went straight to her core and wounded her soul. Maura was in the midst of a crisis of faith, and right now, all Nick could focus on was helping her patch things up with God.

  Maura took a deep breath. Slowly and carefully, she signed her name on the bold line at the bottom of the contract. With that simple act, she took temporary control of the Music Box Theatre until such time, after all stipulations were met, that ownership would be permanently transferred to her. Just some ink on a page, and her life was now turned totally around.

  “Fine. That's just fine.” Wendell smiled broadly. “I’ll check in on the two of you from time to time, just to see how you’re progressing, but I don’t foresee any problems.” He turned to Maura. “I expect you’ll need to put your affairs in order in California before you can get settled here. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  Maura shook her head. “Nothing comes to mind. As I told Nick, I’m sure I can sell the shop quickly, and there's no need for me to be there while escrow closes. I should be back in Granger in a few weeks.”

  “Wonderful.” Wendell shook her hand, then turned and shook Nick's. “It was good seeing you again, Pastor Shepherd. Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

  Maura and Nick left the office and headed down the stairs. With each step, another doubt assailed her. Had she done the right thing? Had she been too rash, too headstrong? She had just made a huge decision after giving it little consideration. She thought it was her only option, but was that true? Running the theatre meant moving back to Granger, a place she barely wanted to visit let alone live. What had she gone and done?

  By the time they got to the parking lot, Maura was in a full-on panic attack. Nick was saying something, but with all the buzzing in her head he sounded like he was talking through a fast-food drive-up speaker. She walked to her rental car, put her hands on the hood, and hyperventilated.

  The buzzing grew louder, droning in her ears like a cloud of mosquitoes circling her head. Finally, she made out one word, repeated over and over. �
�Breathe.” She felt a hand on the back of her neck, gently rubbing away the tension—heard the soothing voice telling her to breathe, breathe, breathe. Eventually, her breath evened out and the mosquitoes flew away. She was now completely aware of Nick 's strong hand kneading her neck and shoulders, and his reassuring voice that continued to encourage her. It struck her that not only had she broken out in a cold sweat, but tears were streaming down her face. So much for offering up the appearance of a confident businesswoman.

  “I’m okay,” she said, pushing herself off the car hood and straightening up. “Do you have a—” Before she could finish the sentence, Nick held out a pocket pack of tissues. After she’d wiped her face and blown her nose, she turned back to him. “Sorry. I’m not sure where that came from.”

  Nick shrugged. “It's been an emotional day. You probably needed a good cry.”

  She nodded. “I just hope I made the right decision. Now that it's official, it's kind of scary.”

  “Yes, it is. But things will get better.”

  “How? We’ve got to live together now. For six months. How are we going to do that?”

  She waited for Nick to give her a definitive answer. To tell her exactly how everything would work out. But he didn’t do that.

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking as lost as she was. “We’ll just have to take each day as it comes. We’ll work it out.”

  Did he really believe that? And why was he being so nice to her? His life was about to be thrown into chaos too. It would be just like when they first moved to Granger, only different. They would be living together almost like a husband and wife, except they were nothing of the kind anymore. Through no desire of their own, they were about to return to the place where their world had fallen apart.

  She looked into his eyes. They were stormy now, like the sky over the ocean. Once, she had believed every word he said. Once, she hadn’t thought twice about trusting him. But that had blown up in her face.

  How could she start trusting him now?

  Maura shook herself. “Thank you for … thank you.” She took a key on a plastic card out of her purse and unlocked the car door.

  Nick cocked an eyebrow at her. “Where are you going?”

  “To the Holiday Inn by the airport. My flight leaves first thing in the morning.”

  “I see.” He turned from her, looking in the direction of the theatre. When he looked back, his jaw was set and his eyes had gone cold. “You never intended on staying past that meeting, did you?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No, I sure didn’t.”

  3

  Selling her home and business was easier than Maura anticipated. But it was still hard.

  Upon returning from Granger, she immediately called one of the shop regulars, who was a commercial real estate agent. As she expected, he knew of several prospective buyers for the property. By the end of the week, Sullivan's had a “sold” sign in the parking lot and a “closed” sign hanging on the front door.

  Getting rid of the contents of Sullivan's had been more traumatic. Maura hired a company to handle the estate sale. But the morning of the sale, she couldn’t tear herself away. Something inside her needed to see who would end up with the pieces of her life.

  To see people paw through the contents of her home was a little disconcerting. She had no use for the tall, green satin leprechaun hat she’d found in the storage room, but it still bothered her when a woman with a fanny pack picked it up and said to no one in particular, “This is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Maura wanted to snatch the hat right out of the woman's hand. It was tacky, but Da had loved it.

  “How much for the dart board?”

  Turning around, Maura saw a young man talking to one of the company employees. He probably attended the college nearby, the same one Nick had gone to, and was looking for something to put up in his dorm room. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Nick had tried to shoot darts a couple of times with some of the regulars at Sullivan's. It hadn’t been pretty. A sad smile came to her lips. Except for that one time.

  As the dart board buyer considered his purchase, another woman haggled over the price of a dozen old-fashioned straw holders. Behind her, someone pushed a button on the ancient jukebox Da had kept stocked with Irish favorites. The strains of Van Morrison singing “Tura Lura Lural” filled the air, and for a moment, Maura couldn’t breathe.

  She’d had enough. With a sigh, she made her way through the throng of bargain shoppers. It was time to let the past go.

  The next morning, Maura took a final look at the place that had been her home for most of her life. As she stood in the parking lot, a geyser of sadness bubbled up inside, confusing her. Why was she so sad now? It was just a building, after all. She’d faced greater losses in her life: her mother's death from cancer when Maura was sixteen, and Da going to be with his beloved wife just a few months ago. Losing them was far more difficult than leaving a building.

  Still, standing in front of the shop for the last time, Maura's emotions roiled. The new owners planned to demolish the building, replacing it with something new and trendy designed to bring in more revenue. Maura couldn’t argue with the business sense of that plan, but it still made her heart ache. Sullivan's was small and simple, but it was home. Seeing it go was a little like losing her father all over again.

  With the car packed to the brim with her personal items she hit the road, determined to adopt a positive outlook. The first time she’d made this drive, she was a bright-eyed newlywed. Though she expected to see the country they drove through, stopping to poke along the way, Nick had other ideas. They had to keep to the schedule, which meant side trips were nonexistent. But this time, it would be different. She had her route mapped out and a box on the passenger seat filled with CDs from her favorite movie musicals and Broadway shows. She was her own pilot, copilot, and navigator. There was no one to tell her how far to drive, where to stop, or what she could or couldn’t see. And she planned to see all the interesting little tourist traps along the way.

  The live unicorn exhibit was a huge disappointment and a total waste of time—just one more thing that didn’t live up to her expectations.

  “People really shouldn’t be allowed to post blatantly false advertisements on the side of the road,” she muttered to herself. Keeping her eyes forward with one hand on the steering wheel, she fiddled with the CD player. She punched a button and Julie Andrews's voice sang out, smooth as warm honey, claiming that all she wanted was a room somewhere.

  Maura groaned. A room. It was getting late, and her little side trip had put her even further off schedule. She needed to find a hotel to stay the night, but right now all that greeted her was prairie as far as the eye could see. Her idea to remain spontaneous hadn’t worked out well. The last two nights she’d had to try several hotels before she found one with a vacancy. Hopefully, tonight she’d get a room at the first hotel she found. Considering her luck lately, the owner would be a psychopath running another Bates Hotel. No wonder Nick had been such a stickler about planning ahead and keeping to the schedule when the two of them made this trip.

  What was Nick doing now? Was he having dinner at home alone? More likely, she’d find him at some church function. But wherever he was, at least he had a bed to sleep in at the end of the day. Maura just hoped she’d find a place to stretch out and get some sleep. And soon.

  Maura made much better time after the unicorn incident, but her spirits hadn’t improved any. By the time she arrived in Granger two days later, her joints felt locked in place and her muscles protested every move she made. Glancing at the seat beside her, Maura shuddered. It would be quite a while before she listened to any of those CDs again.

  She drove down Main Street and made a right on Clover Ridge Road. Faith Community Church stood proud and tall, taking up the corner, sparkling in a relatively fresh new coat of white paint. Next to the church sat the parsonage, the first in a street full of modest, almost identical houses. Maur
a pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and eased herself out of the car.

  Standing out front, deja vu wound around her like a python, creeping up her body, slowly squeezing the air out of her. The first time she’d seen this house, Nick had been by her side. They were both excited and ready to embark on a new adventure. But while Maura looked at the parsonage, thinking of the home they would make together, Nick couldn’t tear his eyes away from the church next door. That should have been her first clue.

  When she left Granger, she swore she was done with the town and everyone in it. Now here she was, returning to the place where everything went so wrong. How ironic that in order to start a new life for herself, she had to backtrack into her old one.

  She took a deep breath, climbed the three steps to the front porch, and reached out her hand. Her fingers stopped just short of the front door. She lived here, too, now. But just letting herself in didn’t feel right, and ringing the bell felt way too formal. Finally, she gave the door a couple of awkward raps with her knuckles.

  A moment later the door swung open and Nick stood in front of her, a frown creasing his forehead. “Maura. You’re early.”

  She glanced at her watch. She’d called last night to update him on her progress. Naturally, she’d gotten the answering machine. But in her message, she’d only said that she’d arrive today. “I don’t remember telling you what time I’d be in.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Then how can I be early?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’m sorry. Of course, you’re not. I just meant that I’m not ready for you yet.”

  Not ready in what way? She was afraid to ask. “Do you want me to come back later?”

  “No. I mean, I’m just wrapping up a meeting. Come on in.”

  Nick stepped back, opening the door wider. Maura walked by him into the living room. A young woman in jeans and a T-shirt sprang off the couch, her blond ponytail bobbing.