A Time of Hope. Terri Reed
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When I’m done with my interim assignment here, I’ll go on staff with him. The church has a congregation of over five thousand, with three services a week. Occasionally, his sermons are televised.” He tilted his head back and took several long swigs of water.
From the pride and awe in his tone, Mara guessed Pastor Durand saw his grandfather as some kind of hero. “Is he your maternal or paternal grandfather?”
“My mom’s dad.” He took a long swig of water, nearly emptying the bottle.
Mara liked his strong jaw. Liked the angular line of his nose and chiseled cheekbones. He had nice thick hair, the color a walnut-brown that matched his puppy-dog eyes. Eyes that were watching her with interest.
She blinked and realized she’d been staring.
Quickly turning her attention to her sandwich, she asked, “What do your parents think of you following in your grandfather’s footsteps?”
“My mom’s fine with it. As long as her children are happy, she’s happy. My dad had hoped I’d go into business with him. The high-tech industry doesn’t float my boat.”
The hint of tension in his tone piqued her curiosity.
“In college I majored in business, but I really enjoyed the psychology and sociology classes more. I thought briefly about going into a profession that utilized those studies, but I really want to be like my grandfather. I want to reach the masses with God’s word.”
“Pastor Anders once said that change came by touching one heart at a time.”
He lifted a challenging eyebrow. “Big change can come from touching many hearts at once.”
Mara shrugged, not sure she agreed, but what did she know? She was just a small-town girl with no experience in the world outside Hope. “As long as hearts are being touched, I guess the venue doesn’t matter.”
“But you don’t believe it?”
She supposed her look gave her away. “I’ve never been out of Hope, so frankly I don’t know.”
He gave her a thoughtful look. “Tell me about your family, Mara.”
An anxious flutter rippled through her. She sighed. “You might as well hear it from me.”
She wasn’t sure what slant the gossip would take. Besides, she’d learned that the truth kept people at a safe distance. As if somehow her family’s scandal would rub off on them or something equally silly. Whatever the case, she needed to keep a safe distance from the all-too-attractive pastor. Emotional attachments only ended in pain. She didn’t want any more pain.
“My mother’s dead, my father was arrested for her murder and then acquitted when her death was ruled an accident.”
“I’m so sorry.”
The sympathy in his light-chocolate-brown eyes scraped across her soul. She didn’t deserve sympathy. She sought the comfort of her organizer. Nothing had changed since she’d last checked it.
“Where’s your father now?”
Her shoulders slumped. Another death she was responsible for. More pain she had to live with. “He died eight years ago from a heart attack.”
He sat forward again, concern and compassion softening his expression, making her want to cry. “Man, that’s tough. Uncle Ben had said you had a sad story. I didn’t image how sad.”
Anger sliced a jagged path through her nerves, chasing way the weak tears. She knew the town pitied her. They shouldn’t pity her, they should hate her.
With jerky movements, she flipped open her planner. “Since I cleaned the cottage on Tuesday, I have a few hours available in the morning tomorrow that we could work on organizing you for Sunday’s service.”
Skimming her finger over the pages, she continued, “Friday afternoon has some free time. Saturday is pretty crammed, though.”
She looked up to find him studying her. She resisted the urge to squirm. “What would be good for you?”
“What about tonight?”
She glanced at the note she’d written herself for the evening. Four orders. And complicated ones at that. “No, tonight won’t work.”
“Do you always live your life so scheduled?”
Cocking her head to one side, she stared at him with disapproval. “You have a problem with organized people?”
“Organization is one thing, but chaining yourself to a schedule is another.”
Tucking in her chin, she stated succinctly, “It makes life easier.”
“What about spontaneity? That’s not something you can schedule, is it?”
She pulled a face. “I don’t have time for spontaneity. Do you want to choose the time or do you want me to?”
Jacob liked the kaleidoscope of greens, golds and browns swirling in her steady gaze. There was something about the stubborn jut of her chin that he found charming. She was so different from the city girls he’d become used to. His ex-girlfriend Karen had been polished and sophisticated, requiring only the best in life. And his sister, well, her motto was image is everything. Needless to say she was normally impeccably done up at all times, even during her bad days.
“Pencil me in for both days,” he said.
“Both?” Her raised eyebrows were nearly hidden by her wild curls. “You do realize Hope is a small community. It won’t take too long to show you around town.”
He could just bet she’d drive down Main Street and call it good. “I don’t want the two-dollar tour. I want to meet the people. Get a pulse on the community.”
Even though he wasn’t going to be staying long, he wanted to do a good job while here.
Her nose twitched. “You sound like a politician.”
That would have pleased Karen to no end. “I’m just a man who loves God.”
She smiled, drawing his attention to her mouth. She really had a nicely shaped mouth when it wasn’t all tight or scrunched up. Her hair wasn’t nearly as dark as he’d first thought. The wild curls were more of a chestnut color.
Today she wore an oversize tan blouse, which she left untucked from her light khaki pants. An outfit his sister would gag over.
He suppressed a smile as he watched Mara block off time in her schedule book. He doubted she realized that she’d hugged the book to her like a shield as she told him of her parents’ deaths. He wanted to believe she’d dealt with the tragedies. Mostly because he didn’t want to become emotionally involved with her when they’d be seeing so much of each other.
And because he knew she wouldn’t appreciate him trying to help her.
But Jacob would appreciate her help. “Do you have the name and numbers for the associate pastors?”
She slanted him an odd look. “There are no associate pastors.”
Tension pulled at the muscles in his shoulders. “Who’s been filling in since Pastor Anders passed on?”
She pushed a curl away from her forehead. “We haven’t had services for the last few weeks.”
“What about when Pastor Anders went on vacation or was sick?”
She looked at him as if he was a dense child. “Pastor Anders never went on vacation. And he never was too sick to preach.” Her expression turned sad. “Except the last few weeks before he passed away.”
“How did he die?”
“The doctors said lymphoma. No one even suspected. He never said a word or showed signs of pain. He just started to slow down over the course of a few months. The man was eighty years old so I thought slowing down was a good thing.