An Honest Life. Dana Corbit
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you’ll meet the November deadline?”
He shrugged. “It’s going to be tight. If all the subcontractors—plumbing, electric, heating and cooling, insulation, drywall and finish flooring—are on time, and that’s a big if, then we’ve got a chance, anyway.”
“Oh, I hope everything moves quickly. That would be great if it would be ready for the Thanksgiving celebration.”
She dug a few holes and indicated for Rick to hand her individual plants to put into them. Once she lowered them into the ground and patted the dirt back into place, she turned back to him. “Have you heard about that event? It’s like a family holiday dinner times fifty.”
“Sounds okay, I guess, if you like things like that. But if anything throws the schedule off, it won’t be happening this year inside the new building.”
“If the project is done, you’ll come to the church celebration, won’t you?”
He made a noncommittal sound and handed her another plant. Well, at least it wasn’t an outright no. She could almost guarantee he’d be a regular church attendee before that next holiday.
She looked back at him again. “How was your Labor Day weekend?”
“Short. I worked Saturday, remember? And isn’t today still part of the long weekend?”
She nodded and took a deep breath before diving in. “Didn’t see you at church Sunday.”
“I wasn’t there. I don’t attend church.”
Now that sounded like a definite no. Her confidence slipped, but it wasn’t like her to give up easily. “You need to give it a chance, Rick. You’d just love Hickory Ridge. It’s a great church community.” She refused to hear how empty those words sounded in her ears or to wonder whether she even believed what she’d said. If the church was so great, then why did she feel so lonely lately every time she entered its doors?
“It’s not your specific church I’m opposed to. I disagree with organized religion overall.”
Charity’s mouth went dry. How could anyone believe such a thing when church was so much a part of her life, the center point of her daily schedule? But then the shock evaporated into irritation. “If you don’t believe in churches, then why are you building the Family Life Center?”
“I believe in honest work and giving clients the very best. And my foreman, Rusty, convinced me this was a good project for us—a group he believes in—so we went for the contract.”
The dispassionate way he said it bothered her even more. “I don’t understand how you can think this important project is just work. And if it’s just about earning a living, then why are you here alone today when you won’t accomplish much?”
Instead of answering her question, he shrugged. Charity planted her hands on her hips, refusing to wonder why his apathetic attitude annoyed her so much. Of course, it was justified, and she hurriedly searched for a reason to tell him before he spoke again. But he beat her to it.
“Hey, great news about the youth minister’s new baby. I heard you helped with the delivery.”
A punch couldn’t have knocked the wind out of her as effectively as that statement had. Uneasiness put an end to her annoyance. How much did Rick know about Andrew? Had Andrew told him the whole embarrassing story?
Her thoughts whirling off-kilter, she struggled for some appropriate response. She had to think of something to say before the awkward pause in their conversation expanded like a fault line during an earthquake. In a rush, she choked out, “Yes, Seth is a sweet baby. He is so perfect—such a wonderful gift from God.”
“That’s funny,” he said. “I thought they were all supposed to be gifts from God—even the less-than-perfect ones.”
Charity jerked up her head, but he only looked away. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. He’d just gotten her all flustered, and now she’d fallen in a trap of her own words. Why did it seem she couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together when this man was around?
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, part for effect and part as self-protection from the way he muddled her thoughts. “I know perfectly well that all children are precious to God. In Matthew 19:14, Jesus even says, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.’”
She couldn’t help feeling a little smug over that comeback. That would show him not to twist her words.
But Rick only shook his head, a strange smile appearing on his lips. “Yes, the Bible is an amazing book, the Book of Matthew in particular, where the Beatitudes are found. One of them says ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’ Meek and humble mean the same thing, don’t they?”
Charity felt color draining from her face. He’d as much as accused her of having no humility. She searched madly for some appropriate retort, something to put this arrogant fool in his place, but she finally ran out of steam. “Oh…just forget it. Did you have some real purpose here, or did you just come to bother me?”
Rick made a negative sound and didn’t meet her gaze when he said, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Then why are you here? Really?”
“I thought it would be quiet at the site with the holiday and all.” He shrugged and took a few steps toward his black extended cab pickup. Over his shoulder he said, “I came to pray.”
To pray? Charity still reeled from Rick’s words, even as she watched him dump his tools in the truck and drive from the church lot. Part of her wanted to offer him good riddance, while the other part wished to pepper him with questions. It made no sense that he would have such a problem with churches and yet come to pray at the deserted church lot. Come to think of it, why was he praying at all if he didn’t attend church? And how was he quoting Scripture if he didn’t hear it every week in sermons?
Was it possible for him to have faith, even if he didn’t teach Sunday school or sing in the choir or, at the very minimum, attend Sunday services regularly? She just didn’t know.
And equally confusing was how he seemed so intent on twisting everything she said to make her look bad. It was as if he wanted to make some statement, but whatever it was, she wasn’t getting it.
At least he hadn’t pushed the issue of the Westin baby or any nastiness from her past regarding Andrew. Maybe he didn’t know as much as she’d first suspected. The relief that pushed a heavy breath from her lungs surprised her. Why did it matter so much that a near stranger didn’t know about her less than shining past?
Gardening having lost its appeal, Charity gathered up her tools and crossed to her car. She refused to acknowledge the voice inside that questioned her leaving right then, when the church grounds were finally empty and she could work alone.
She needed to get home and rest; that was it. The excuse was sure easier to swallow than that she was still bothered by that conversation with Rick. And not just the mini scriptural debate, either. She’d had plenty of those over the years, and she could hold her own against all but the best-trained biblical scholars. Far more troubling was how enjoyable she’d found chatting with Rick and planting with him side by side.
The image of his startling blue eyes, with character lines crinkling at the corners, stole into her thoughts. How light and sparkling those eyes appeared when Rick laughed. How anger darkened that color at least two shades. She knew. She’d seen—and probably inspired—both reactions.
Suppressing that image took more energy than should have been necessary, but she’d accomplished it by the time she’d closed the car’s trunk. Obviously, she had to be a little friendly with him to accomplish her mission of bringing him to church, but she wasn’t supposed to enjoy herself so much. She admonished herself to focus on her Christian duty rather than the handsome prospect as she climbed behind the wheel.