“Actually, this is therapeutic. Even if it does kick up my allergies.”
“We can’t let the sniffles keep us from living.” His gaze traversed the length of her hair, followed it all the way down to her waist. Then his jaw hardened, and he looked away.
Feeling his disapproval, Megan wished she’d braided it instead of enjoying the nakedness of sun and breeze. She didn’t even have on her covering. The whole conversation had reminded her that he was more than a friend. He was a man. And he was a preacher; one who didn’t appreciate women latching on to him. She’d do well to remember that. “So there’s the pail. Help yourself to some therapy, while I go in and fix us a soda.”
Yanking out some quack grass, he called after her, “You better come back. I hope this isn’t a trick to get me to do your work.”
She composed herself and returned with her hair primly bound beneath her prayer covering. Although she was sure he’d heard her approach, he kept working until she offered him a tall glass of the iced beverage.
Thoughtfully, she sipped her own cool refreshment. “I’d like to have a garden like this someday.”
“I can picture that.” He stood and brushed the soil off his pants. “A man could be happy with a property like this.”
She wished happiness for him. “Dad is, but his cars have something to do with it. If you stay, the parsonage has a big property. Enough to enjoy the outdoors, but not enough to keep the preacher from doing what he’s supposed to be doing.”
Micah seemed thoughtful, almost distant. “Sister Barbara seems pretty attached to her place.”
“I know. I wonder how the elders will handle that? Have they mentioned housing to you at all?”
“No.” He pointed toward the apple trees and changed the subject. “Does your dad spray those?”
“Yes, he does.”
“I can do that for him.”
“You like gardening?”
“I’ve been keeping up my grandma’s place for a long while. My place,” he softly corrected.
Megan felt a tug of sympathy. She looked into Micah’s eyes, and before he schooled his gaze, the depth of compassion and sadness she saw almost made her feel like a trespasser. But he quickly schooled it, and next he flung a tiny clod at her. It hit her skirt and fell to the ground. “Yes. I like gardening.”
The boyish gesture beckoned her. Her lip curled, all intentions of revering her preacher fled. She was just about to pay him back good when she noticed the change in his appearance. Her mouth gaped in astonishment. She squealed with delight. “You did it! You parted your hair in the right place.” She made a slow and complete circle around him. He rolled his gaze skyward in minimal toleration. She smiled. “If you’re not careful, next you’ll be almost average looking.”
“Megan!” Mom appeared from nowhere, shaking her head. “Remember, you are talking to our preacher.”
Waving her hand through the air, Megan dismissed manners. “Oh, Mom, you know we’re old friends. Brother Micah,” she mocked, “our lunch must be ready.” She turned her back to him and strode toward her mom. “He wants to spray the apple trees next.”
Mom called, “You coming, Micah?”
“I have some leftovers in my cottage. Thanks anyway. But when you’re finished, you can show me where you keep the spray.”
“Oh, sure.”
At the screen door, Mom paused. “You sure you and Micah are only friends?”
“I’m sure. Micah just makes me feel better.”
Mom nodded. “I just thought … never mind.”
CHAPTER 28
The next day Megan awoke rubbing her eyes, a hangover from her gardening spree. Grabbing a tissue from her nightstand, she wondered how she could fill the hours of another day with no work. Then she remembered the promise she’d made to herself at Brother Troyer’s funeral, to spend time with Barbara. Somehow since then, she’d gotten caught up in her own affairs and neglected that promise. Megan’s romantic disappointment had to be minor compared to the older woman’s loss of a lifelong companion.
At breakfast while she and Mom lingered over coffee, Megan brought up the matter. “I’d like to go see Barbara this morning unless you have other plans for me.”
“That’s a great idea. If you’re up to it. You don’t look so good.”
“It’s just allergies. I took a pill, and I’ll be fine.”
“Would you mind stopping at the store for me on the way home?”
They made plans, and an hour later, Megan found herself ringing the parsonage doorbell, while juggling a small watermelon Mom had sent along.
Barbara’s eyes lit with delight. “Nobody can grow those like your mom. Come on in.”
They set the fruit on the countertop and settled in at the kitchen table, where Barbara’s Bible lay open.
“How are you doing?” Two months earlier, Megan wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask the older woman anything so personal. But given all her own soul-searching, the question came out so naturally, it almost asked itself.
“I have moments when I feel sorry for myself. But even though I’m lonely, there are new blessings every day. To think that a young thing like you takes an interest in an old widow like me. Well, that’s a blessing.”
“I’m not so young.” With all she’d experienced since she started working at Char Air, life had caught up with her.
“Something’s happened.” Barbara pushed up from the table. “I’ve been cooped up all morning. Let’s take a turn around the garden. I want to show you my hydrangea bush. Then you can tell me what’s going on.”
Not bringing up her allergies, Megan followed Barbara’s spry steps, thinking that her back was more stooped than usual. When they reached the eight-foot-high bush, equally large in diameter, Barbara plucked a stem with a pink cluster. “Just look at this. Did you ever see anything happier than this bush?”
Biting back a smile, Megan took the happy bloom in her hand, gave its stem a twirl, and brought it to her nose. It was fresh and sweet smelling. “Mom had me weeding her flower garden yesterday. The lavender smelled so good we took some inside. We added some roses to the bouquet.”
“It sounds lovely. But shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I’m taking a break from my boss.”
“And he pays you for this?”
Megan laughed. “He told me to take a few sick days.” She briefly filled Barbara in on what had happened with Chance. The widow listened without batting an eye. Megan was in the middle of explaining about her great-aunt Louise’s portending visit when she was silenced by a series of sneezes.
Barbara snatched the stem from her hand. “Oh honey, I forgot about your allergies.”
“It’s probably because I was in Mom’s garden yesterday. I should’ve known better.”
“Well, let’s go inside.” A bluebird swooped into a blueberry bush. “I wanted Eli to build me a bluebird house, but he never got around to it.” Inside, Barbara placed the stem in a tall, narrow vase of water and bent to rearrange her refrigerator to make room for the watermelon. “I guess you see how this melon is white on the bottom? A sure sign it’s ripe and sweet. Sometimes, life is like that. I think you’re still on the vine, honey, but very soon now, things are going to change for you.”
Later at the store, Megan got the few items on Mom’s list, while going over the strange conversation with Barbara. The widow enjoyed hinting at things, as if she was privy to some prophetic insights. While she was there, Megan should have asked her if she thought that Micah would get voted in as permanent pastor.
Micah heard the low din of male conversation drowned out by his own footsteps clattering across the linoleum hallway. When he got close to the doorway, he heard a cough followed by dead silence. Stepping into the meeting room, the hair on the back of his neck bristled at Vernon Yoder’s guilty expression. Micah took the remaining chair and folded his hands on the sterile gray, rectangular table.
He nodded at the five men who had assembled to discuss the state of his
interim pastorship. Bill sat on his immediate left. Vernon and a grim-faced Leon Beachy sat across the table. The painter had some white speckles on his wrist that he must have missed when he’d showered. Normal people just like me, Micah tried to reassure himself.
Next to Leon was Ray Eversole. They were on good terms since Micah had learned not to put him on the spot, asking for songs that weren’t on the agenda. To his right sat Noah Maust, the professor who had recommended him for the position.
Bill cleared his throat, which wasn’t necessary since the room was already quiet. “Vernon, you wanna pray?” There were a few mumbled Amens when the prayer was completed, and then Bill turned his gaze toward Micah. “Do you have anything to share with the group? Want to tell us how it’s going?”
Being the specimen on display, Micah sought for something that would put himself in a good light. “I still believe God led me here, no matter the outcome. It’s been humbling to break out in hives two Sundays in a row, and then make that embarrassing blunder last week….” He had to pause when they broke into laugher. “But I’ve also been blessed with affirmations. Brothers and sisters telling me how the sermon touched them or spoke to their needs. I see God in it.”
Bill nodded. “That’s true. People come to me with good things to say about you.”
There were some affirmations along that line, and then Bill continued, “I’ve probably gotten to know you the best, and I respect and admire you as a godly man. I’m quick to always put in a good word for you.”
“We think he just wants to keep you around to spray his apple trees,” the professor teased. Micah had learned back at Rosedale that the professor had a good sense of humor when he felt like applying it.
The song leader smirked. “It isn’t all roses over there, from what I hear. Not with a cat in the shop.”
The men chuckled at Bill’s weakness for nice cars without cat scratches.
Bill winked at Micah. “Let them have their jokes.”
Micah figured it was best to remain silent and keep them in good humor.
Bill yanked at his button-down shirt. “All in all, the committee feels positive about your preaching and your character. But some rumors have reached us. We’d be at fault not to bring them to your attention.”
Assuming he knew where the conversation was headed, Micah nodded. “I understand.”
“So Leon, why don’t you tell Micah what your wife heard this week at the quilting.”
“Sure.” He turned his gaze onto Micah. “My Inez, she doesn’t gossip. Just so you know. But she overheard the widows talking at their corner of the quilt, pretending to keep their voices low, but Inez said she thinks everybody heard them when Susanna Schlagel told Ann Byler that she went to the office on Tuesday and saw you and Joy Ann Beitzel in a heated embrace.”
“Where was Ruthie?” the professor asked.
“She hadn’t arrived yet,” Micah interrupted. In spite of the committee members’ startled gazes, he continued, “Let me explain. I thought Miss Beitzel had a crush on me. I believed that’s why she always managed to come in early before Miss Ropp. I saw the infatuation from the start but wasn’t sure how to handle it, not wanting to hurt her or offend anybody. I’ve tried to show her that I wasn’t interested, but after Sunday’s dinner invitation at her home, I realized I was going to have to be more direct with her. On Tuesday she was there early again. So I explained as kindly as I could that I wasn’t interested in a relationship with her. She didn’t accept it. I tried to explain that I appreciated her as a person and a secretary. That made her even more upset.”
Several eyebrows lifted, and Micah was certain that if the men knew Joy Ann at all, they were imagining her reaction. “At first, she argued. Then she cried. Before I knew what had happened, she clapped her arms around my waist. I didn’t know what to do and looked up, frightened that somebody might see us, and sure enough, there stood Susanna Schlagel in the doorway.”
Leon shook his head. “That explains it. Bad timing, that’s for sure.”
Micah felt beads of sweat on his forehead. “I disengaged Joy Ann and went to the door to speak with Susanna, but she stormed off and wouldn’t listen to my explanation. After that Joy Ann returned to her desk. She was embarrassed, but we were able to speak more calmly about the incident. I affirmed her work again, and then I went into my office until Miss Ropp arrived. After that, I left the church because the atmosphere was strained.”
“Too bad,” Leon repeated. “But there’s more.”
With surprise, Micah jerked his gaze to the painter. “More?”
“The widows claim that you stare at them while you preach. They want to know why you stare at them.”
“I don’t stare at them!” Micah objected, feeling a flash of resentment toward the widows, Susanna in particular.
“They claim it makes them uncomfortable and self-conscious, wondering if you are trying to lay some conviction on them. It makes them feel like the congregation is watching them.”
Micah wanted to say, if the shoe fits, but instead he shook his head. “I’d never single out a person and preach at them. If I had something to say, I’d tell them privately to their face.”
“Good.” The professor quickly came to his defense. “The incident with Joy Ann verifies that.”
The other men nodded thoughtfully.
“Like I said, my Inez doesn’t gossip. Trust me on that. But if I were you, I’d make sure you don’t look at the widows’ section anymore when you preach. Leastwise, until this settles down some.”
Vernon cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “The real issue’s not your character, Micah. I hope you don’t feel like you’re on trial. We can only hope that the congregation’s ready for a single preacher. It’s a tricky situation. A big change. But the younger folks are behind you. Katy and Jake have nothing but good things to say about you.”
“There’s still time for the congregation to settle in and accept the idea,” the professor replied.
Bill interrupted. “I’m not sure this will die down on its own. I’d like to take this information to the elders committee. They may have some helpful advice. The last thing we want to do is embarrass any of the women if we can help it.”
After that, Micah wondered if he was capable of doing his job in a way that would exhibit the constant decorum and discreetness that it required. All that came to mind was the many times he and Megan had spent time alone together, how they’d embraced. And how he secretly loved her. If someone confronted him about that, there would be no way to deny it. In a sense, Susanna wasn’t that wrong about his character, only she’d attributed his weakness to the wrong woman.
When Megan returned to Char Air, Paige wasted no time to single her out in the coffee room. “Feeling better?”
“Much better.”
As they prepared their hot drinks, Paige waited until they were alone and then probed. “I guess Chance must of caught whatever it was you had.”
“Did he?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
Megan sighed. “If I tell you, can you keep it to yourself?”
“I always told you that I’m here for you.”
“We were getting close, and he asked me to go to Ecuador with him.”
Paige’s face stretched in disbelief, partly horrified yet greedy to learn more. “All that right under my nose! I’m getting lax.”
With a wry grin, Megan replied, “Maybe you should trade in those contacts for some reading glasses.” Paige swiped the air with her hand. “Anyway, he was relentless, and I was even considering it.”
“I guess my man repellants didn’t work? Nor my big bad wolf speech, either?”
“No.”
“So what happened, honey?”
“The other morning when Randy and Tina came to the office, she told me that Chance was a fighter pilot.”
“Well, yeah. I thought you knew that.”
“No. Actually, we’d talked about my beliefs, and he purposely held
back that information. It helped me understand that he wasn’t being honest and open with me. It wasn’t all his fault, but it helped me understand that we needed to end it.”
“So you did have the same thing.”
Megan nodded grimly. “It’s my own fault. But it’s going to be dull around here without him.”
“I don’t like dull, either, but I can tell you from experience. Sometimes dull is restful. I know you have a sweet tooth. Maybe you should put a dollop of whipping cream in your coffee today and an extra spoonful of sugar. That’ll help.”
“Do you see whipping cream?” Megan joked. “No thanks, but I am going to Lil’s restaurant for lunch today. Want to come along?”
They started walking out of the coffee room. “Maybe next time. I need to get my work in order for the real boss when he returns after next week.” Before Paige returned to her own desk, she shook a manicured finger at Megan. “Now I know why you snapped at me the other day. You need to trust me more.”
“I’m sorry about that. I did confide in someone who I thought would give me good advice.”
“Who?”
“The preacher who lives in our little guest cottage.”
“And did he?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m no preacher or even a saint. That’s for sure.” With a huge chuckle, Paige left for her own cubicle.
On Megan’s desk were stacks of work that Chance had organized for her before he left. Brief sticky notes topped each one. She peeled off the first one and brought it up to her face. Dead ends. Rather fitting. Was he on a plane now headed for Ecuador? How long would he think of her? With a sigh, she grabbed the stack of files and headed to the file cabinet.
The morning went surprisingly fast, and she soon found herself at Volo Italiano, confiding in Lil. This time, Lil had taken her back into the employee’s snack and lunchroom, and they ate together.
Lil waved her sandwich. “You’re a strong woman. I’m proud of you for sticking to your beliefs. I like the part about how God opened your eyes and you just knew.”
“That was amazing. I’d been struggling for so long and didn’t seem to be getting any direction at all, but at the office that day, I just knew.” Megan frowned. “Is that a peanut butter sandwich?”
Plain City Bridesmaids Page 86
