The Pastor's Christmas Courtship. Glynna Kaye
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off his hummed rendition of “O Holy Night,” he glanced at the rail-thin gray-haired woman standing in the doorway to his room on Sunday morning. Seventy-year-old Dolly Lovell and her husband had taken him in as a boarder a year ago when he’d been cautioned that as a single pastor it might not be advisable to get a place of his own and he hadn’t want to bunk back with his folks. As it turned out, this lodging arrangement not only came with meals and occasional help with laundry, but also built-in chaperones.
“I’m heading out right now.” He reached to the top of an antique dresser for his Bible and an iPad filled with sermon notes, then gave his part-time church receptionist a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Al to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
Dressed for church herself, a smiling Dolly shook her head as he slipped by her. “It’s a dirty job, Pastor McCrae, but somebody has to do it.”
There was probably more truth in her humorous comment than he cared to think about. Born with—and long indulging—an independent streak made coming under the authority of the church leadership a never-ending challenge. Both for him and them.
It wasn’t far to the church, a distance he most often enjoyed walking, but this morning he jumped in his old Ford Explorer to make better time. Although he didn’t have a Sunday school class to teach this quarter—he’d used the extra hour this morning to shovel out the Lovells’ driveway and polish up his sermon—he’d caught his mind wandering one too many times. If he was late, it would be Jodi Thorpe’s fault.
He could still hear her laughter when she thought Grady’s preacher comment was a joke. Could see the shock in her eyes at his admission that he was an official God’s man. He wasn’t unaccustomed to that reaction since returning to Hunter Ridge, of course. With the exception of Drew, he’d taken a lot of ribbing from his high school buddies—and even was shunned by a few. Many adults who’d known him when he was growing up eyed him with skepticism. No surprise. But for some reason Jodi’s disbelief pierced him to the core.
Admittedly, it was a stretch to accept the changes in his life. Especially when Jodi was standing in the mudroom where as a hormone-driven teen he’d once attempted to put the moves on her right under her family’s nose. But deep down he’d hoped to hear the friend of his youth confess she’d seen something in his early years that foreshadowed this turn of events. Or that her grandmother had admitted to glimpsing a nugget of promise in him.
More likely, though, all her grandma saw was an undisciplined young rascal who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
Nevertheless, Jodi had agreed to take on this year’s Christmas project. A load off his shoulders, for which he was grateful.
As always, his spirits rose at the sight of the church building. This morning the weathered brick edifice, built in the 1930s, looked like something out of a magazine with snow coating the roof and the surrounding ponderosa pines. Some noble soul had shoveled the walkways and bladed the parking lot, the sun now pitching in to do its part.
There were good people here at Christ’s Church. He was more than fortunate to land a ministry opportunity with a congregation like this one as he prepared for a future in missions work. But did they consider themselves equally blessed to have been saddled with him? They’d been pretty desperate when he’d come along. Following the departure of their third minister in as many years, they’d been without one for six months when Grandma Jo took a hand in things.
And now they’d be looking for a replacement once again.
“Garrett!”
His cousin Luke Hunter—Grady’s older brother—waved him over as he approached the front of the church. A newlywed of only a few months, he looked happier than he had in years. The high-spirited former Delaney Marks had certainly impacted the widower and father of three in a big way. He was much more relaxed now, less hardheaded, and occasionally could even pass for laid-back. While Garrett hadn’t heard anything official, if Grandma Jo’s suspicions were correct, child number four might be putting in an appearance not too far into next summer.
When he reached his relative’s side, the men shook hands, and his cousin lowered his voice. “I want to give you a heads-up. Old Man Moppert isn’t happy that you’ve rearranged things at the front of the church.”
Randall Moppert. Again. The guy had never forgiven him for TP-ing his trees when, in the pitch dark and slightly inebriated, a teenage Garrett had mistaken Moppert’s place for that of a friend next door.
“I didn’t rearrange. I shifted the lectern and the Lord’s Supper table slightly off-center so there’s room for the kids’ choir. They’re kicking off our service with ‘Away in a Manger.’”
“Well, he doesn’t like it. I overheard him telling one of the board members that you’re taking liberties in God’s house.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Better you than me.” Luke grimaced, then glanced with interest toward the parking lot. “Who’s that with the Palmers?”
Following the trajectory of his cousin’s gaze, Garrett’s heart rate kicked up a notch at the sight of a pretty woman, her red-gold hair flowing around her shoulders as she exited a vehicle. The Palmers must have seen Jodi walking into town and picked her up.
Which was another thing nagging at him.
Last night he’d said he hoped to see her at church, but although grateful for her taking on the project and aware she didn’t have transportation, he hadn’t offered any.
The church where he’d done a semester’s internship had strict guidelines on staff interactions with members of the opposite sex, and he’d instinctively maintained those standards as much as possible when he’d come to Hunter Ridge—even if their rules were more lenient. Which is why he hadn’t accepted Jodi’s invitation to join her inside for cocoa. But he could have at least drummed up a ride for her.
She looked amazing this morning, her fair cheeks rosy from the cold and a bright smile rivaling the warmth of the morning’s welcome sun. Then there was that eye-catching, begging-to-be-touched long hair that as a kid her folks kept cropped up by her ears. Not for the first time, he whispered a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t be in town long. Although many times a partner in his schemes when they were kids, she’d increasingly balked when he took his risk-taking tendencies to the extreme. No doubt she’d be unsurprised that those inclinations had finally caught up with him—and he was paying the price.
“Garrett? I said—”
“That’s Jodi Thorpe,” Garrett quickly responded, his face warming at Luke’s curious look. Had anyone else noticed him gaping at the newcomer? Not recommended ministerial manners. “She used to spend summers up here. Sometimes Thanksgiving or Christmas. You may not remember her. She’d have only been about seven or eight when you left for the military.”
“Thanks for the reminder of my old age.” Although still on the sunny side of forty with a wife ten years his junior, Luke gave him a mild look of reprimand. “I don’t remember a Jodi, but I do remember the last name. Grandma Jo was good friends with a Nadene Thorpe. This is a granddaughter?”
“Right. Hey, look, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Maybe he could make amends for not arranging transportation for Jodi. “I’m going to welcome her to Christ’s Church.”
Luke leaned in. “You do that, flirt master, but don’t forget you have a million eyes on you right now. Until you hear otherwise, you’re still in the running for a full-time position here. Don’t blow it.”
Luke’s warning was unnecessary. Not only did he have God looking over his shoulder, but he was acutely conscious of how closely a single pastor was watched—and judged. Good impressions were especially important right now, even though, unknown to those around him, he had no intention of staying in Hunter Ridge, job offer or no job offer.
“No worries,” he assured Luke as his gaze drifted back to the subject in question. “As a kid, that gal