Hope's Corner

by Chris Keniston

  “While I appreciate the help, I figure you have something on your mind beside my flower beds.”

  “Yes, well I didn’t want you to be under the wrong impression about what you saw.”

  Euphemia McCarthy lifted her straw hat with one hand and brushed at her forehead with the other, never shifting her gaze from Pam’s face.

  Pam tried not to fidget under her neighbor’s steady gaze. “I can imagine what it must have looked like to you.” She hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing inappropriate had happened between her and Jeff, yet because of her, he’d lost his job and probably the respect of a lot of good people. “I was…” What? Troubled? Upset? Teetering on insanity? What the hell was she supposed to say now?

  “Lonely?” Euphemia said.

  “No!” Pam stabbed the small spade into the dirt. Well, maybe, but now wasn’t the time to wander down that path. “I was at the Parkers’ house when Pastor Harlon had his attack the other night. Went to the hospital with the family. Since Travis died, I tend to get overly upset when people are hurt or sick.” And I have nightmares.

  Still watching Pam intently, Euphemia fanned herself with her hat.

  “I was very upset last night,” Pam continued. “Jeff’s a good pastor. He listened quietly, and when I fell asleep on the sofa, he chose not to leave me alone and waited till I woke up in the morning to make sure I was better.” It was close enough to the truth. Pam just wished it didn’t sound so lame.

  “Jeff’s always had a kind heart.” Euphemia McCarthy finally turned her attention back to the flower beds. “He’ll make a fine husband, but he deserves a good woman.” She slanted a glance in Pam’s direction. “Someone who’s willing to put him first. Fight for him. There will always be someone in his congregation who will cause him grief. And I’ve never known a church not to have a high-and-mighty elder breathing down a pastor’s neck. Doubt Jeff will escape it any more than Harlon has. Yep, a strong good woman to stand by his side is what that man needs.”

  A strong good woman? What the heck prompted that? All Pam wanted was to convince her neighbors that nothing happened last night, starting with Mrs. McCarthy. “I’m sure someday he’ll meet the right woman, but I don’t know how easy it will be for him to find a new job if the church insists on replacing him over this…misunderstanding.”

  “Replacing him?” Euphemia’s gardening utensil froze in the dirt.

  “Mr. Haskell came to the church offices this morning. The board has requested Jeff’s resignation.”

  “I see.” The old woman sat back on her heels again. “And you think this is somehow my fault?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  Euphemia pierced Pam with a glare so sharp she worried the woman could read her thoughts and feelings like an X-ray. “You don’t want Jeff to…resign, do you?”

  “Of course not.” Pam set the gardening spade aside. “Especially since this is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so upset—”

  “Yes, so you mentioned.”

  “Jeff is an honorable man. He would never… I mean…things aren’t like that between us.” Just because his smile made her insides tingle had nothing to do with anything.

  Euphemia’s attention drifted down to where Pam was mindlessly spinning her wedding ring around. “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Good.” Pam pushed to her feet. “Now if I can just convince a few more neighbors and the rest of the town.”

  “Don’t you worry about a thing. Troubles like these always have a way of working themselves out for the best. Most times the simplest solution is right in front of your nose.”

  “I hope so.”

  Leaning forward slightly, Mrs. McCarthy sprang to her feet with an ease Pam hadn’t expected. The woman not only had knees of stone, but the agility of a ten-year-old.

  “Yoga.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Keeps you limber.”

  “Oh.”

  “You should try it.” Euphemia peeled off her gloves and tossed them into a nearby bucket. “In the meantime I’ll talk to Etta Mae and see what we can do to help. We both want what’s best for you and Jeff.”

  “Thank you.” I think. Pam feared she already knew what Etta Mae thought best. Oh, Jeff, how did life get so complicated?

  Euphemia McCarthy was true to her word. By the time Pam made it across the street, Euphemia had put away her gardening bucket and was on her way to Etta Mae’s.

  Pushing open her front door, Pam tripped over Peaches. “And they say dogs are faithful. You know, it’s easier for me to actually come into the house if you wait near the door, not in front of it.”

  With a flick of her tail and a muffled meow, Peaches made her irritation with Pam known and pranced off toward the kitchen.

  “Okay, be that way.” Besides, she had more important things to worry about than a disgruntled feline. First her neighbors, Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Harper. Then the board. She’d have to change their minds. One at a time. Away from John Haskell’s influence. But who to start with?

  One thing at a time. She poured some milk into a bowl. “Better?” she asked.

  Peaches nuzzled against Pam’s ankles. All was forgiven. If only she could make peace with the board that easily. The sound of the doorbell pulled her away from her thoughts. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Not at this hour.

  “Jeff.”

  “I was at Mom’s. Mrs. McCarthy came by. She said you spoke to her. She apologized to me for jumping to conclusions.”

  “I’m glad. One down and half a town to go.” Pam waved him inside. “I was just about to make some tea. Care to join me?”

  He nodded and followed her into the kitchen. “I spoke with Caleb this morning, but he’s leaving town for a couple of weeks.”

  “Oh.” So much for Jeff asking his friend to see her as soon as possible.

  “Second honeymoon. Europe.”

  She reached for the kettle on the stove. “As a kid I dreamed of honeymooning in Europe. Salzburg actually.”

  “Salzburg?”

  “The Sound of Music was my favorite movie. I thought it would be romantic to dance in the gazebo.”

  “Chick flick.” Jeff slid into the seat closest to the stove.

  “Maybe.” She wanted to grin. She’d been tied up in knots all afternoon. Not even her visit with Abigail had eased her mind. The old woman’s story had tugged at Pam’s heartstrings. Mrs. McCarthy’s comment that Pam was lonely should have twisted her already stressed heartstrings more tightly. But the familiar pain that always settled in, when reminded of Travis and all she’d lost, hadn’t come. As a matter of fact, after only a few minutes with Jeff, her heart felt light again. “Oh, God.”

  “What?”

  Her hand frozen in midair, holding the empty teakettle, she heard Jeff’s chair scrape against the floor seconds before she was struck by the heat of his body beside her.

  “Are you okay?” Worry laced his words.

  Unable to move, she watched Jeff gently pry the kettle from her tightened grip and set it aside.

  With a gentle touch he turned her to face him. “Pam, you’re scaring me.”

  “Jeff,” she whispered softly.

  Hands on her shoulder, his fingertips moved in a slow soothing motion. “What?”

  “No.” Hugging her waist, she pulled back. “They’re wrong.”

  He stepped toward her and she stepped back. “Who’s wrong?”

  “Abigail, Euphemia. They’re wrong.”

  In a frustrated gesture he took a step away and raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following you.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Really.”

  “Was it another dream?”

  “No.” She turned her back to him and squeezed her eyes closed. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Space, distance, her head shouted she needed distance, but her heart craved for him to stay close. Time to think. To understand. Oh, God. How could this happen? How could she want so desp
erately for him to pull her into his arms, and soothe away all the worries and fears? There was only one man for her. Only one. She turned to face him. “I’m married.”

  The quirk of his brow told her he was struggling to comprehend. But how could he when she had no idea what to make of the sensations and feelings churning inside her. “I think you should leave.”

  His puzzled expression morphed into one of sheer panic, and her heart nearly stopped. She didn’t want to hurt him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m just… I’m sorry.”

  His body shifted forward and then back, before he finally took a step closer to her. “Something is very wrong. What’s the matter?”

  Moving with the hesitancy of a large man approaching a frightened child, he took another slow step toward her. By the time he stood so close she could feel his shallow breath on her face, the urge to run away and hide had fled. Chased away by the growing yearning to trust for the second time in her life. “I’m scared.”

  With the same gentle concern he’d shown her last night, he wrapped her hand in his. “Of what?”

  “You.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Him? His mouth hung open, but words weren’t spewing forth. Thoughts tumbled about in his head, but he couldn’t seem to settle on which one he should form into a question. How could she be afraid of him? Was it yesterday? His reaction to being close? Was it his touch now? Did she somehow believe the “taking advantage” bull that was racing through town on the ends of wagging tongues? Good God.

  She pulled away, stepped back, her eyes still locked on his.

  His hands raised, about to reach out, to touch, hold her, show her that he couldn’t possibly hurt her, when his mind caught up with his actions, and he froze in place. If she’s afraid of him, the last thing he should do is try to touch her. But God, how he wanted to hold her, reassure her. Right now he’d sell his soul to have her trust back.

  “I wouldn’t…” His eyelids fell closed as he searched for words. “Why would you think…” Eyes open again, his gaze settled on hers. The pain and doubt he saw warring inside her stabbed at him, drawing out the words hiding in his heart. “I would never hurt you. Never.”

  “I know that.” Pam swiveled around, took a step, and brushed her palms down the sides of her slacks in a swift jerky motion, before turning back and letting her gaze meet his. “I’m married.”

  “You said that already.”

  “I’ve had the love of a lifetime. I don’t need or want another man in my life, a Percival Clarke.” Gazes still locked, she took another step back. He lifted a foot to follow. “Please.” She raised a hand. “Stay where you are.”

  If she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, then why had she backed away from him until her spine hugged the wall? Why were her eyes growing round with fear as he moved closer?

  “I don’t understand.” Or did he? Waking up in his arms this morning, kissing him awake. In a hazy dream world she’d thought she was still with her husband. Or had she? “Pam, what exactly are you telling me?”

  Slow and steady he moved toward her until he was so close he could feel her ragged breaths blowing sporadically against his collar. When he took her hand in his, her breath hitched, and he felt her pulse skip. The fear he’d seen moments ago in her bright blue eyes faded away. Now, eyes a dark steel blue stared back at him. Eyes filled with hunger, and heaven help him, was that desire?

  “I…” Pam blinked, swallowed, and the pulse point in her neck picked up speed. “I shouldn’t…but I do.”

  Feminine logic had never been his strong point, and Pam’s gibberish wasn’t helping, but there was no denying the look in her eye. He should make sure. Be clear. Leave no room for misunderstandings. He opened his mouth to speak at the same moment her pink-tipped tongue peeked out to moisten tightened lips. All logic, all reason, any sense of decency he might have, flew out the window.

  His mouth descended on hers in a rush. Delicate soft lips briefly touched, sparking a need so strong that tongues and teeth clashed in a tangle of heat and desire, threatening to overload his senses. A soft groan filled the air, hers, his, another.

  Silky blonde hair sifted through his fingers filling his mind with visions of blankets of blonde hair feathered across his chest, his stomach, his thighs, making his groin ache with need. A feral growl rumbled deep in his chest, and he thrust his tongue harder, faster. Her movements matched his. Hands trailed up and down his back, his arms, fingers twirled along the nape of his neck, raking through his hair, blazing a path down his back again. Teasing at his waist, tugging his shirt. Warm, long fingers dipped along the edge of his slacks drawing slow sensuous swirls on his bare flesh. Firecrackers exploded in his gut.

  With every lick, every taste, every groan, he pressed against her. He was hard as a rock and desperate to feel her softness surround him. Shifting his stance, legs spread, hip to hip, she fit with him, man to woman, hard to soft, the way God intended.

  God.

  On a deep sigh, his head dropped to her shoulder. Hands frozen in tangled blonde curls meekly fell to his sides. Blood pulsing in his veins made a slow, chilling journey north to his brain. What was he thinking?

  Once again, he wasn’t thinking. At least not with the head on his shoulders. Not since he’d been a randy hormonal guy in college had he thought with the head below his belt.

  He lifted his head, dared to look her in the face. Eyes closed, her head leaned back against the wall, her neck extended as though calling for him to take one more taste. One last kiss. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t. Her chest heaved in labored breaths that matched his own unsteady rhythm.

  “Pam…” What? What could he say? I’m sorry? I shouldn’t have? And God how he still wanted to. Everything in him screamed to throw out his book of rules and carry this woman upstairs and ravish her until the aching need inside was satisfied. Only he didn’t think it possible. “Pam—”

  “Feel this.” She took his hand, palm open, and pressed it against her chest, holding it in place. An erratic beat thumped, hard, fast, with no sign of slowing down. “I thought it was forever broken.”

  “Definitely not broken.” The urge to lean in, press his lips to hers, and start all over was as strong as his need to breathe. He desperately wanted to show her that her heart wasn’t the only thing not broken. But damn it, things were crazy enough. He needed to bring sex into the mix like he needed an entire flock of John Haskells in his life. So far he could still look his father in the eye and say he hadn’t broken the laws of God, but if he didn’t get a grip and get out of here soon, that “I want you” look in Pam’s eye might win. “I think I’d better go home.”

  Pam nodded, but still held his hand against her heart. He didn’t try to move. His feet were rooted to the floor the same way his gaze was glued to hers. What could one last kiss hurt?

  He did it again. And Lord help her, she didn’t want him to stop. His hard muscled body pressed against her. Little fires burned where his fingers touched. Nerves that had lain dormant and dead, now sparked and danced with anticipation. Everything in her yearned for more, needed more, cried for more.

  “Yoo-hoo.”

  Yes. Another touch, another caress. More. So much more.

  “Pammy, dear?”

  Pammy, dear? What? Who? Etta Mae! Pam gasped, mortified her neighbor might catch her pawing at Jeff like a lust-driven teen in the backseat of a Chevy.

  “Pammy Sue, hon, is everything all...” Etta Mae Parker and Euphemia McCarthy stood calcified in the kitchen doorway.

  Jeff leapt away as though he wore springs instead of shoes.

  Pam resisted the urge to smooth her clothes and straighten her hair, and instead stole a glance at the two women.

  The expression on Etta’s face reminded her of the time her mother had tried to slice a freshly baked loaf of bread with the consistency of a brick. Her mom never did figure out where she’d gone wrong. Next to Etta, still standing stiff as a statue, Euphemia seemed to be swallowing a smile. The tight press of her li
ps could have been that of an angry woman withholding her wrath, but the laughter in her eyes told Pam that Euphemia was struggling to suppress a broad grin.

  Hands in his pockets, Jeff looked tired, rumpled and damn sexy. How were they going to get out of this one?

  “We rang the bell,” Etta finally said.

  “Twice,” Euphemia added, still munching on her bottom lip.

  “We had an idea.” Narrow eyed, Etta stared at her son. “You said you’d be back in a few minutes. I thought…” Her eyes darted to Pam and back. “I thought Pammy here might be more upset than she showed, need some emotional support, but I see you’ve already taken care of that.”

  Euphemia snorted and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, the curve of her lips still visible.

  “Ma, this isn’t what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh, really.” Etta folded her arms. “Then by all means, explain to me why you were plastered like wallpaper against Pamela Sue.”

  “I…” Jeff blew out a breath, as much at a loss for words as Pam.

  “It’s my fault.” Pam pushed away from the wall.

  “No. I’m the one who started it.” Jeff shook his head.

  “I’m not going to let you take the blame for this. If I hadn’t flipped out, you wouldn’t have tried to comfort me.”

  “You didn’t flip out.” His attention focused on Pam, Jeff stepped closer. “Something frightened you.”

  “I was being silly. It was nothing.” She waved him off, hoping he wouldn’t make her say it out loud. They were wrong. They had to be wrong. She couldn’t fall in love with Jeff. She couldn’t. She loved Travis. She would always love Travis.

  “Pam.” He closed the gap between them, his hands gently resting on her shoulders, his thumbs once again drawing soothing circles. “Tell me what spooked you.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the tingling sensations ricocheting through her system, again. “We’d be here all day. Haven’t you learned? I spook easy.”