Courting Hope. Jenna Mindel
Читать онлайн книгу.
for fun in everything she did. From the time they were teens in the same youth group, Sara had drawn out his serious younger brother and made Ryan laugh like no one else could. The two had dated for years. When she’d died they were engaged, but they might as well have been married. They’d been inseparable.
“I don’t know, Mom. I can’t even talk to him anymore.”
She patted his hand. “You weren’t here when he needed you, son. Ryan won’t let that go.”
“Why can’t he see that I was needed in Haiti, especially after the earthquake?” Sinclair had run away by going on a church mission trip a week after Sara’s funeral. Once he’d been in Haiti and seen the needs of the orphanage school, he’d stayed. Ryan hadn’t forgiven him for it.
“Don’t give up on him. Ryan needs you even if he won’t admit it. God has brought you home where you belong, Sinclair. Just hang in there.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
He didn’t feel like he belonged here, not in his childhood home at least. God had brought him back, that much he knew. But the time spent in Haiti, coupled with the reason he’d gone there, made it hard to feel comfortable anywhere.
* * *
“Hope, can you come into my office?” Sinclair looked troubled the next morning as he filled his coffee cup.
“One sec.” Hope hit Save on her computer.
He returned to his office, which was across a small corridor. Hope could see him from her desk, and she’d caught his eye several times that week without meaning to.
Sinclair had given her an interesting sermon to outline for Sunday. He wanted copies stuffed into the bulletins passed out before the service. So far, she was impressed by his preparation. Sinclair must have finally left behind his bad habit of procrastinating on studying until the last minute.
Shannon wiggled her eyebrows. “Sounds serious.”
“Please stop.” Hope stood and headed for the pastoral office.
She couldn’t block the unease that crawled up her spine with each step she took. What could Sinclair want? They’d pretty much kept their distance the past few days.
Leaning against the doorway of his office, Hope forced herself to relax. “What’s up?”
“Come in a minute, would you?”
Hope slipped into one of the two chairs in front of his desk and waited. His window was open and she could hear birds chirping in the crab apple tree outside. A warm breeze that smelled like summer blew in and rustled loose papers sitting on Sinclair’s desk.
He gathered them up and stuffed them under the file labeled “Church Budget.” A much fatter file containing all the information for the building project sat next to it.
Her preschool.
Clearing his throat, he looked at her. “I want to ask you something, but I need you to be completely honest.”
“Okay.” Hope waited.
He looked at her then. “Don’t answer right away. Give it some thought.”
She wiped her palms on her khaki skirt. “What is it?”
“This is going to sound so stupid.” He ran his hand through his brown hair, which had been sun-streaked blond in places. And then he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. A nervous habit he’d picked up. She’d never seen Sinclair nervous until these past few days. “I need to know, from someone whose judgment I trust...”
“Yes?” Hope leaned forward. Would he listen to her ideas for the project?
“Last night’s message—what did you think?”
Hope blinked a couple times. “What?”
“The service, my stories. Did I come on too strong?”
“Hmm.” Hope hadn’t expected such a question. She’d never expected Sinclair’s confidence to be shaken, either. And clearly he didn’t feel confident. It made her want to smile. Big-time.
Instead, she stalled. “Why do you ask?”
“I got a lot of blank stares.”
Hope didn’t want to soothe him, but she couldn’t lie, either. She’d been blown away by the harsh realities the Haitian people faced. Sinclair had been working at an orphanage that had swelled like a tidal wave after the earthquake. He’d witnessed devastation and death. Still, between the massive graves for the dead and the violent looting, she had a feeling that last night’s message only scratched the surface of the horrors Sinclair had seen. Listening to him, Hope knew how easily he could have been killed. The reality of Sinclair gone forever had brought an unwanted ache deep in her chest.
She narrowed her gaze. “You didn’t exaggerate?”
He shook his head.
“I think you made some people uncomfortable, and you’d better be ready to hear about it.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look like she’d given him the answer he’d wanted. Well, Hope wasn’t about to pat him on the back for scaring her congregation with his experiences in Haiti. Sure, he’d met a lot of needs and served like any God-fearing person should, but running off to Haiti three years ago had been one of his wild-hair whims. He’d jumped at the chance for adventure. He’d jumped at the chance to run away from her, Ryan and every reminder of what had happened to Sara. He’d run away from his part in it. She wouldn’t applaud that.
“You think I shouldn’t have gone there.”
What did he want from her? Hope shifted, but his direct gaze pinned her like a paper leaf on a classroom bulletin board. “To Haiti? Or last night’s message?”
“Both.”
She didn’t want to answer that. She might let it slip how hard it had been for her after Sara had died. Despite blaming him, she’d needed him then. “All I know is that you’ve seen some crazy stuff.”
“Real crazy.”
By the shadows that glazed his eyes, she feared he might tell her just how crazy. Her throat dry, she whispered, “Why did you come home?”
“I couldn’t keep running from what had happened. God led me home to face Ryan, your parents. Even you—especially you.”
Hope took a deep breath but tears threatened. She fought the clogging of her throat. She didn’t want to get into this. Not now. Not at work. “Don’t.”
“I won’t. But eventually we have to.”
Judy’s words about holding on to her grudge echoed through her mind. It was easier to blame Sinclair than herself. If only Hope had been there. If only she hadn’t gone shopping, Sara might still be alive.
He dipped his head to catch her attention. “Subject change?”
She sniffed. “Please.”
“Tell me about this building project. Why a preschool?”
Hope couldn’t lay open her dreams without figuring out where he was coming from and what he had planned. “Judy said you wanted a youth center.”
“The board would like to eventually hire a youth pastor. To do that, we have to reach the teens in this area. A youth center might draw them to our church.”
Hope gritted her teeth. “Shannon and her husband do a fine job with the youth.”
“Yes, they do. But their time is limited. Especially with a new baby.”
“The preschool has already been approved by the board.”
“Before your minister retired a year ago. Things change, Hope.”
Dread settled in the pit of her belly. “Are you changing the plan?”