The Pastor's Wife

by Jennifer AlLee

  “Really. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. You do have to deal with the council, but I can understand why you wouldn’t want to.”

  She set the cup down and put her palms flat on the table. “Thanks, Nick. And I’m sorry I missed dinner. If I’d known—”

  He held up his hand. “It's okay. You couldn’t have known. But you bring up a good point. I think we need to be clear on what we do and don’t expect from each other during the next six months.”

  “I don’t expect anything,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to change your life to accommodate me.”

  He smiled. That was so far from the truth. His life had changed the minute he pushed the “open” button on that elevator door.

  Maura wrinkled her nose. “Maybe that approach is too simplistic. What I mean is we should consider ourselves roommates. We can come and go as we please. We’ll take care of our own meals. That kind of thing.”

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And what about the morning bathroom situation?”

  She snatched up her coffee cup and took a gulp. “You’re absolutely right. We need a schedule.”

  Maura felt like a mouse entering a room of hungry cats when she walked into the Faith Community Church conference room. Her instincts told her to turn around and walk out, but before she had the chance a few people stood up to greet her. Derrick Nelson, who several days earlier had agreed to be her accountant and financial advisor, met her with a firm handshake and an encouraging pat on the back. Next came Chris, the associate pastor, and Lainie, the youth director, both of whom surprised her with warm hugs. The rest of the council members, not bothering to leave their chairs, simply nodded or said a curt “Hello.”

  “Pastor Nick will be with us in a moment,” Chris said, “and then we can get started.”

  Maura sat at the end of the long conference room table and busied herself by reading the framed posters adorning the walls. Each one was done in bright colors and showcased a Bible verse. One particularly exuberant poster, quoting Psalm 35:9, exclaimed “Then my soul will rejoice in the Lord, and delight in His salvation!” Ironically, Oren Thacker, head of the church council and the man sitting in front of the poster, looked like he was neither rejoicing nor delighted.

  And he wasn’t the only one. For people who were supposed to be full of the “joy of the Lord” a lot of them sure seemed cross.

  Maura knew many of these people from her previous life in Granger. Her memories of them, Oren in particular, were that they’d welcomed her effusively and fawned over her until discovering she wasn’t exactly the kind of pastor's wife they’d envisioned. The harder she tried to fit into their mold, the more it squeezed, until she burst out of their expectations all together. When she left Granger, she never thought she’d see any of these people again. Judging from their faces, they would have been perfectly happy with that.

  The door opened and Maura said a silent thank you when she saw Nick standing there. The sooner they got started, the sooner she’d be out from under the microscope.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Nick said as he entered the room. He shut the door behind him and took the empty seat next to Maura. Smiling, he looked around the table. “How is everyone today?”

  Maura smiled back, but before she could respond, Oren spoke up. “If you don’t mind, Pastor, I’d like to dispense with the pleasantries and get right to the issues surrounding Miss Hattie's will. Since we had to convene for this special meeting, there's some church business I’d like to address. That is, after we’ve put that other matter behind us.”

  Maura's cheeks grew hot as the man pinned her with his glare. It was quite clear he wanted to deal with her and get her out of the way so she wouldn’t be privy to any important church business. She met Oren's gaze, refusing to look away. She had zero interest in anything else they had to discuss, but she wasn’t willing to let this man push her around. Not again.

  “Actually, I believe our first order of business is to open with prayer.” Nick's voice was firm. He looked around the table as if daring anyone to disagree with him. “Shall we?”

  Maura hesitated, then folded her hands together in her lap. She knew the preferred prayer posture at Faith Community was to take the hand of the person sitting next to you. But Maura couldn’t do it. She’d feel like a hypocrite, holding hands and acting like they were all friends. A wave of relief washed over her as Nick also chose to forgo the tradition, folding his own hands and bowing his head, inviting the others to do the same.

  “Dear Lord, we thank you for this opportunity to meet together to seek your direction for this church and its people. We thank you, Lord, that you have made this a place where all are loved and welcomed, even as you love and welcome us though we are still sinners. Give us ears to hear and hearts to know your will. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

  “Amen.” Maura echoed the sentiment with everyone else, surprising herself as she did so. It had been a long time since she’d prayed, or even voiced agreement to a prayer. Some things, she supposed, became so much a part of you that you just did them instinctively.

  She glanced over at Nick. His prayer, while definitely heartfelt, had also diffused some of the tension in the room. Many of the folks who had looked so unhappy a few moments before, now seemed slightly sheepish. Even Oren had been affected. And Lainie, who seemed to live in a perpetual state of happiness, was downright giddy.

  “Let's begin, shall we?” Nick stood and turned his attention to Oren. “I think it would be fine to start with the matter of Miss Hattie's will. After all, there's no reason to bore Maura with the rest of our business.”

  Nick was in full leader-of-the-flock mode now. Maura couldn’t help but admire how he took over the meeting. He gave a quick rundown of the provisions in Miss Hattie's will, including the living arrangements at the parsonage, but did so in such a matter-of-fact way that if anyone wanted to make an issue out of it, they didn’t have a chance. He made a point to connect with everyone, looking around the room as he spoke and making eye contact with each person. Finally, he got to the part about the theatre and how it needed to be used to host at least one church event.

  “After the event is completed and the six-month living arrangement has been satisfied, Maura will receive the deed to the property, and the church will receive a generous donation from Miss Hattie's estate. So you see, by working together, we’ll all come out winners. Now, I’d like to turn this over to Maura so she can tell you what she has in mind.”

  As Nick sat down, every head at the table seemed to turn in her direction in unison. Maura hadn’t expected this meeting to be easy, so she’d been especially thorough in her preparation. Over the past week, she and Rachel had outlined everything that needed to be done at the theatre and what it would take to get the place back into working condition. She had facts, figures, even a timeline for the renovation. Even though the church council had no say over what she did with the theatre, she wanted them to know she was serious about the project. Most of the people in the room were business owners themselves and members of the chamber of commerce. As a new business owner in the community, this was Maura's first chance to win them over.

  She’d gone over her presentation again and again and felt confident it was sound. But now, with the members of the council looking at her, waiting for her to convince them that she was capable, even worthy, of the undertaking, she began to doubt herself. Was she ready for this? Would any of them even care about her project?

  “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve got in mind.” Lainie's eager, positive statement broke through Maura's haze.

  She looked at the youth leader and gave her a grateful smile. “I’m glad you’re excited, because the youth group will play a big part in this.”

  Maura passed out the information packets she’d put together before the meeting and began to review her plans for the theatre. As she spoke, her own excitement took over, disengaging the tentacles of fear and doubt that tr
ied to choke off her confidence. Finally, she wrapped up the details of all the work that needed to be done to the building. Now came the tough part.

  “When it came time to decide what type of joint event we should hold at the theatre, the answer seemed obvious,” she said, trying to sound as upbeat as possible. “I’d like to put on a Christmas Gala to be held the Saturday before Christmas.”

  There was a smattering of murmurs around the table. Tom Anderson, the high school principal and Faith's Sunday school superintendent, raised a finger and spoke. “We’ve always held the Sunday school Christmas program at the church on the Sunday before Christmas. Frankly, it's tradition, and I don’t think anyone would like to see us change that.”

  “I agree,” Maura said. “I don’t want to do anything to interfere with the Sunday school program. I’m talking about something completely different. This would be a combination of songs and drama extending beyond the members of Sunday school. More like a revue.”

  “And who all's going to be in this revue?” Oren asked.

  Maura turned to Lainie. “That's where the youth group comes in. I’ll bet there's a lot of untapped talent there. Also, we’ll let the community know, and see who comes forward. There will be more than enough people who want to get on stage, trust me.”

  Oren scowled, his eyebrows coming together to form a bushy V between his eyes. “Trust is something you must earn, Mrs. Shepherd. I think I speak for the entire council when I say that it will take more than talk and a bunch of pretty charts to earn our trust.” He pushed the folder away from him with one finger. “When I see you back this up with action, I might begin to trust you.”

  He may as well have spit at her. If she had any doubts about the council's feelings for her, Oren had made them perfectly clear. Not only did they mistrust her, but they didn’t expect her to follow through with her promises. When she hurt Nick, she hurt the congregation as well. When she walked out on her marriage, the council took it as a personal betrayal. The only way to earn their trust was to prove she meant what she said, no matter what.

  The uncomfortable silence was broken by Lainie, once again coming to the rescue. “You can count on the youth group, Maura. And not just to be in the Gala. I’ve been hoping to find a good service project to get them involved in. We’ll help with the renovations too.”

  “That brings up another very important point.” Oren leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table. “While the restoration of the theatre will certainly benefit the community, the church is in no position to allocate any finances to this project. Is that understood?”

  Maura wanted to reply that not only had she not asked for their help, but she wouldn’t take it, even if they offered. She didn’t want the council involved any more than was absolutely necessary. But her practical side stopped her. The man was so puffed up he looked like his head was ready to pop. No point antagonizing him further. So she simply answered, “Yes.”

  Oren swung his gaze to Lainie. “Miss Waters, while I’m sure the youth could find better ways of spending their time, their participation will be left to your discretion. But absolutely no money is to be used from the youth fund toward this project. Are we clear?”

  “Absolutely.” For the first time that day Lainie's tone was less than bubbly.

  “Fine.” Oren gave a sharp nod. “If there's no more discussion, we can put it to a vote.”

  “Excuse me, but I have a few questions for Mrs. Shepherd.”

  Maura turned toward Pastor Chris. “What would you like to know?”

  “Mrs. Shepherd, there are some members of the board who are concerned about you and Pastor Nick living together in the parsonage. I was wondering if you could address that.”

  Something twisted in the pit of Maura's stomach. She didn’t know anything about the young pastor, but her first impression upon meeting him was that he would be fair. His question took her completely by surprise. She looked at Nick. It was clear from his expression he hadn’t seen it coming, either. And she was almost certain he was counting.

  Maura looked back at Chris. She wanted to ask him why he’d brought this subject up. She wanted to tell him to stop calling her Mrs. Shepherd. She wanted to run out of the room. But she knew her only option was to stay calm and answer his question.

  “One of the stipulations of the will is that I live in the parsonage during the next six months. Obviously, Miss Hattie watched one soap opera too many and decided to play matchmaker from beyond the grave.” Her nervous laughter bounced weakly against the walls of the hushed room. Apparently, no one else got the joke. Maura rushed on. “So, yes, I am living at the parsonage. I sleep in the spare bedroom. Nick—Pastor Nick—and I, are roommates, if you will. Reluctant roommates. And that's all.”

  She looked at each member of the council, daring them to say anything to the contrary. For once, it seemed they took her words at face value.

  Chris nodded. “I see. So after six months, will you continue living in the parsonage?”

  Thankfully, Maura already knew the answer to this question. “No. There's an apartment above the theatre. I plan to renovate it and move in as soon as I’m able.”

  Her smugness was short-lived. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized she’d never shared this part of the plan with Nick. She glanced over at him, but his face was blank now, devoid of any emotion. She couldn’t tell how he felt about this newest bit of information.

  “One more question,” Chris said. “After the six months is over, how do we know you won’t leave town again?”

  Maura bit the inside of her lip. She’d really hoped to avoid this question. She didn’t know the answer yet, and admitting that wouldn’t endear her to the rest of the council. But all she could tell them was the truth.

  “You don’t know,” she said, “because I don’t know. If I choose to stay, I’ll live in town and run the Music Box. If I choose to leave, I’ll sell it and someone else will run it. Either way, Granger benefits.”

  Chris smiled. “Fair enough,” he said with a nod. “Thank you for being so honest and forthright with us. I think your theatre will make a wonderful addition to our community. Oren,” he said, turning to the man, “should we vote?”

  After all the worry, all the anxiety, and the unexpected grilling from Pastor Chris, it came down to a simple vote of yeas and nays. In less than two minutes time, her plan was approved and the church council sent her on her way, with their blessing.

  Maura walked out of the church building and into the courtyard. She’d always found it a beautiful, peaceful place, but today, she appreciated it more than ever. A warm breeze danced through the trees, setting the daisies in a nearby flowerbed to bobbing. It felt so good to be out of that room and standing in the sunshine.

  “Ms. Sullivan, wait!”

  She turned to see Pastor Chris jogging up to her, his tie flapping off to one side. What was he going to spring on her now?

  She crossed her arms. “So you do know I prefer to go by Sullivan?”

  He nodded. His cheeks were just slightly pink, either from embarrassment or the exertion of his short run. “Pastor Nick told me, but it wouldn’t have helped your case with the others if I’d called you that.”

  Boy, did he have that one right. But what was he doing out here now? “Shouldn’t you have stayed till the end of the meeting?”

  Chris dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. “They don’t need me for the rest of the stuff. It's all pretty basic. Besides, I’ve got a hospital visit to make, which was the perfect excuse to get out of there.”

  “You’re a smart one.”

  He grew serious. “I also wanted to talk to you before you left. To apologize for asking you all those questions. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

  “Then why did you do it?” Her words came out sharp and bitter, not at all how she’d intended.

  “You know how it is with church grapevines. The Bible tells us not to gossip, but it seems most folks think that's just a
suggestion. I figured the best way to squash the rumors and the talking was to let you address them straight out. If I crossed a line, I hope you can forgive me.”

  He was right about the gossip, and he’d found a way to defuse it for her. Apparently, her first impression of him had been right after all. Warmth wrapped around Maura like a blanket on a cold December morning. She wasn’t used to having an ally in the church, let alone one of the leadership. She liked this new feeling.

  “Now that you’ve explained, there's nothing to forgive. I appreciate your help in there.”

  He smiled. “You have more supporters than you might think. Not all of them will come right out and admit it, but I think most of the congregation is rooting for you to succeed. And for you to stay in town.”

  “And for Nick and me to get back together?” As long as they were speaking freely, she might as well address this.

  Chris shrugged. “That would be a natural reaction, don’t you think? I can only speak for myself, but I want to see the best possible outcome for both you and Pastor Nick.”

  A chill struck her as if someone had ripped away the blanket, leaving her exposed to the elements. The man standing in front of her was about her age, but Maura felt as if she could be his mother. His eyes were bright, his expression honest and open. In his world, the Lord worked all things together for good. There was a time when she felt the way he looked. But it seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Not trusting herself to speak, she patted his arm and turned, walking out of the parking lot. She couldn’t tell him why she and Nick could never truly be husband and wife again. How could she, when she hadn’t even told Nick the whole truth?

  7

  Nick paced the floor of his office, prodding his brain for the right Scripture. This usually wasn’t so difficult. He’d always been good at memorization, particularly when it was something important or meaningful. His mother used to tease him, saying his brain was like a water faucet; just turn it on and the facts poured out. But today the faucet sputtered and spit, giving up only a drop or two at a time. Nothing was coming easy.