by Cindy Kirk
That earned her a censuring look from her mother.
The kid can’t catch a break, Dan thought.
“I assume you’re staying away from that woman.”
Oaklee cocked her head. “What woman would that be, Father?”
“The one who nearly ruined your brother’s chances for career advancement.” John stabbed a piece of ham and placed it on his plate. “Your mother has stayed in touch with several women she met during our visits to Good Hope. Apparently, the news that my son was dating a married woman is all over town.”
“Don’t you dare say anything bad about Katie Ruth.” Oaklee tossed her head, and Dan saw the defiant gleam in her eyes. “We’re besties.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” A muscle in John’s jaw jumped. “Still, I can’t believe that after what she did to your brother, you—”
“What did she do, Dad?” Oaklee tore the bun in half instead of splitting it with a knife, her eyes never leaving her father’s face.
“You know very well—” Sandra began, but one sharp look from her daughter had her going silent.
“She made a mistake when she was young. Big deal.” Oaklee shifted her attention to Dan. “You’re all about forgiveness. Or that’s what you preach. Despite all the bad things that are happening to her, do you know what she said when I asked her if I could pass along a message to you?”
Dan’s heart gave a leap. When he spoke, his voice sounded raspy. “What did she say?”
“She said to tell you to just be yourself. You’ll do awesome.” Oaklee narrowed her gaze on her father. “That’s the kind of caring person she is, so I don’t want to hear another word about me being friends with her.”
“Fine with me.” John lifted his hands. “It’s not as if I want to discuss the woman. I’d much rather celebrate that your brother will soon have a new job.”
Dan didn’t bother to correct his father. They knew the position wasn’t yet his. He didn’t even know if he would accept it if a call were extended. And it wasn’t a job, it was a ministry.
None of those things mattered as his mind latched on to something else Oaklee had said. “What do mean, the bad things that are happening to her?”
“The fact that she was married got out.” Oaklee set down the half-eaten bun. “Everyone in Good Hope knows.”
“How?” Dan asked. “You and I were the only ones who knew.”
Oaklee’s face took on a dejected look. “I said something to Gladys about her being married. Edna Peabody’s daughter overheard.”
“Oh, Oaklee, how could you be so careless?” Sandra huffed out a breath and glanced at her husband.
John’s face was set in hard lines.
“You may have just cost your brother his promotion.” John turned to his son. “You need to find a way to tell the search committee about this before they hear it from someone else.”
“I agree.” Sandra shot her daughter a disapproving look.
“What bad things?” Dan repeated. His sister still hadn’t answered his question.
“Mitch Peskin confronted her at the Grind. What a loser.” Oaklee’s upper lip curled. “He grabbed her arm and told her he didn’t mind doing it with a married woman.”
Dan shoved back his chair with a clatter and sprang to his feet.
“Sit down, son,” his father urged. “This isn’t your battle.”
“He left a big bruise on her arm.” Oaklee’s comment added kerosene to the fire scorching Dan’s veins.
“I can’t believe everyone just stood around and let him—”
“Ryder stepped in. Ordered him out of the Grind. Told him not to come back.” Oaklee paused. “People stood up for her when Edna started in on her after services on Good Friday.”
Dan closed his eyes for a second. He couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Sit down, Dan. There isn’t anything you can do about this now.”
For a long moment, Dan simply stood there, and anger surged.
Anger at Mitch and Edna.
Anger at himself for leaving so that Ryder and others had to be the ones to stand by her side.
Anger at himself for abandoning her to gossip.
He dropped back into his seat.
“Your father and I are excited that your new church is so close.” Apparently, his mother had decided the best course of action was to ignore the past minute. “I can already tell you’re going to love—”
“You’re running.” Oaklee ignored her father’s sharp glance and kept her gaze on Dan. “You’re hiding from the real work that needs to be done. You make a difference in Good Hope, Dan. Can you really say you’ll be able to make that same difference here?”
Dan didn’t answer. He had no answers.
Not about the position in Lincolnshire.
Not about the feelings he had for Katie Ruth.
And not about the guilt that gnawed at him, that told him his actions had disappointed not only himself and Katie Ruth, but God as well.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Katie Ruth’s phone dinged as she was climbing into bed. Though part of her wanted to ignore the text, curiosity wouldn’t let her stay under the covers.
Casting the lightweight quilt aside, she padded across the floor to the dresser where her phone was charging. When she saw who the text was from, her heart gave a leap.
How are you? I’ve been thinking about you.
Pleasantries, Katie Ruth told herself, nothing more. Still, her fingers trembled as she texted back.
OK. Keeping busy. Oaklee said you preached on Good Friday. How was your sermon received?
There was a long pause. Katie Ruth wondered if she’d made a mistake in being so wordy. Perhaps all he was looking for, all he was wanting, was something quick that told him he didn’t have to worry about her. Not that he was likely worrying about her.
Dan was a minister, a caring guy. This reaching out was just another example of that caring.
I heard from quite a few who said they “enjoyed” the sermon, but that didn’t tell me if they understood the passages better, or if I enabled them to see their problems in a clear light.
Katie Ruth smiled. Classic Dan. Always pushing himself harder in an effort to offer truth that could be applied to the daily lives of the members of the congregation.
I say “enjoy” when I get something out of the sermon. Glad it went well.
There were so many other things that Katie Ruth wanted to tell him. In the weeks they’d been together, he’d become her closest friend and confidant. She reminded herself that those days were over.
Another long silence.
Oaklee told me about the problems with Mitch and Edna.
This, Katie Ruth realized, was why he’d texted. She’d known there had been a specific reason for his concern.
Don’t worry. I can handle myself. I have friends here who have my back.
Just before she hit send, Katie Ruth thought about deleting the last sentence. Would he see it as a jab? Think that she was being passive-aggressive and telling him that he hadn’t had her back? She sent it the way she’d keyed it in.
I’m sorry you have to go through this.
Yeah, Katie Ruth thought, me, too.
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. It’s late. Gotta go.
Then, before she could be tempted to continue the conversation, she shut off her phone and put it back on the charging pad.
She wished he hadn’t reached out.
She wished she hadn’t responded.
Most of all, she wished she didn’t love him still.
While the other ministers and key support staff filled their coffee cups, Dan remained seated around the oval conference table. His thoughts, as they had so often during the past week, drifted to Katie Ruth.
After Sunday’s dinner, he’d gone for a run, hoping to clear his head after Oaklee’s troubling comments. Thirty minutes later, he was exhausted, but the exercise hadn’t eased the ball of fury in his gut. In his head, he had no
trouble seeing Mitch accost Katie Ruth or picturing Edna Peabody in action.
He’d been glad to hear that Katie Ruth was staying strong, that she had friends around her who cared. Friends who, unlike him, had rallied around her in her hour of need…
When Ted began the meeting with a prayer, Dan added his own silent prayer for Katie Ruth.
“Our goal for this year is to reach more people in our community.”
Dan perked up. That had been his goal for First Christian ever since arriving in Good Hope. But in the years he’d been there, the congregation had remained stable, with no appreciable uptick in numbers.
Ted turned to Dan. “We discovered the main factor limiting church growth is pastoral care.”
Whatever limiting factor Dan had expected Ted to give, it hadn’t been this one. “Are you referring to having pastors who don’t connect with their congregation?”
“Not at all.” Ted’s gaze turned sharp and assessing. “You’re currently the pastor of a small congregation with less than two hundred members. Correct?”
Dan nodded, not sure where Ted was going with this, but interested in the possibilities.
“I’m going to list some of the duties a pastor in such a congregation takes on. Stop me if I mention something that isn’t part of what you consider your duty.”
Feeling like a runner poised at the starting block, Dan nodded.
“Visit every hospitalized member. Perform every wedding and funeral. Make regular house calls to shut-ins. Attend every meeting.”
“Not every meeting.” Dan thought of Katie Ruth and how she took personal ownership of the youth group. Then there was Jackie White, who managed the Little Fishes day care program. “I have wonderful coordinators and volunteers who handle the programs from preschool through high school. They provide me with the minutes of their meetings. We consult over any program changes, but I don’t usually attend their meetings.”
“Excellent.” Ted made some notes on the notepad sitting in front of him. He looked up. “Do you lead every Bible study?”
Dan shook his head. “Again, I have very committed volunteers in that area.”
“You’re doing many things well, but there is room for improvement.” Ted smiled. “Just like here. We’re doing some things well, but there is definite room for improvement.”
Ted went on to explain that when a pastor tried to do it all, sermon preparation and organizational leadership suffered, and that inhibited growth. “Both seminaries and congregations have unrealistic expectations of their ministers. Pastors in small congregations and in large ones burn out because they can’t keep up.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That’s what this meeting is about.” Peter answered the question, but Ted didn’t seem to mind. “We get together regularly to discuss potential changes that need to be made to make Christian leadership more strategic.”
“To grow, congregations need to understand that their pastor might not be the one to do it all.” Ted met Dan’s curious gaze. “It sounds as if you’ve set that expectation in your programs for children. More of your care duties need to be shifted to the congregation.”
Dan inclined his head to show he was listening, but said nothing.
“It’s really a win-win. You have more time to focus on duties only you can provide, while shifting others. This allows people to care for each other.”
First Christian was filled with loving, caring individuals. Would Gladys and some of her friends be interested in visiting shut-ins? Dan thought of Floyd and Len and other retirees who could visit the hospitalized.
His mind began to hum with possibilities. Katie Ruth, he knew, would find this topic fascinating. He couldn’t wait to talk to her—
He pulled back his thoughts. They weren’t a couple anymore. Were they even friends? His heart sank.
“Do you do the counseling yourself?”
Dan jerked back to attention. “Yes.”
“That’s another area we’ve outsourced, so to speak, to trained Christian counselors.” Ted paused. “I realize you’re in a small community. Would you have someone you’d feel comfortable referring to?”
“We have a clinical psychologist in our congregation who specializes in children, but who also has a thriving adult practice.” Dan didn’t know Liam Gallagher well, but Cassie had sung his praises. “I believe he might be interested.”
Ted nodded approvingly and made another notation on the pad.
Dan realized suddenly that this discussion was part of the interview process. Reviewing these options was a way for those around the table to see how open he was to doing things differently.
What Dan found particularly interesting was that he wasn’t looking at how this church could best implement these suggestions, it was how he could implement them at First Christian.
Maybe that was because the church in Good Hope was what he knew.
Or maybe he’d been put in this situation so that he could take back the lessons he’d learned and better serve the population of Good Hope.
That might end up being the most interesting lesson of all.
Gladys didn’t often get discouraged. In fact, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d felt the way she did right now. It was as if she was traveling down a familiar path when suddenly she’d been forced to veer right even though she preferred to continue straight ahead.
Gladys placed the clear glass vase tied with raffia and overflowing with sunflowers on a table in the Hill House parlor and pursed her lips. “Dan Marshall is a thorn in my side.”
“You have a thorn in your foot?” Concern furrowed Ruby’s brow. Her gaze dropped from the arrangement in her hands, this one destined for the mantel, to Gladys’s stylish heels. “How are you even able to walk with a thorn?”
“Oh, for goodness sake.” Gladys huffed out the words, then spoke through gritted teeth. “I said that Dan Marshall is a thorn in my side. I have no idea how you got ‘a thorn in my foot’ from that comment.”
Ruby placed the arrangement she held on the mantel, then fussed with it for a second. Once her hands were free, she tapped a finger against one ear. “My hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
Though Gladys could hear a pin drop at fifty feet, she understood some people weren’t as blessed. “What I was saying…”
She motioned Katherine over, not in the mood to repeat the conversation. Thankfully, they were the only ones in Hill House decorating for Cassie and Krew’s bridal shower.
In a matter of minutes, the catering staff from Muddy Boots would arrive with the appetizers, and Anita, the mother of the bride and a superb baker, would show up with the cake. These few minutes were likely the last time today that Gladys and her friends would be alone.
“I find Dan Marshall to be the most frustrating man we’ve ever attempted to match.” Gladys looked to Katherine and Ruby for confirmation and received nods of agreement. “First, there was the situation with Lindsay.”
“That wasn’t Dan’s fault,” Ruby protested.
No surprise, Gladys thought. From the time she’d been a little girl, Ruby had stood up for the underdog.
“Lindsay broke off their engagement,” Ruby said, as if they needed a reminder.
“He didn’t seem to try too hard to keep her, did he?” Gladys blew out a frustrated breath.
When Ruby opened her mouth, Katherine shot her a warning look. Ruby closed her mouth without speaking.
“Now we have this thing with Katie Ruth.” Gladys gave one of the table centerpieces a half turn so that the sunflowers were shown to their best advantage. “I’m beginning to think the man has commitment issues.”
“He’s a minister.” Katie Ruth’s voice echoed in the nearly empty Victorian. “A pastor is held to a higher standard, as are the women they marry. Or even date.”
Gladys froze. She’d known Katie Ruth, who was hosting the shower, would be arriving shortly. She hadn’t known she had a key to the back door.
“Don’t
blame Dan.” Looking adorable in a black dress covered in oversize orange poppies, Katie Ruth strolled across the polished wood floors to Gladys. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should have told him about Judd and the sham wedding ceremony. A ceremony that turned out to be real.”
“You had no way of knowing that episode would come back to bite you in the backside,” Gladys pointedly reminded her.
“No. I didn’t.” Katie Ruth shrugged. “I still should have told him.”
“You look different today.” Katherine studied Katie Ruth thoughtfully. “Zen.”
“You do appear very relaxed.” Ruby smiled. “When you startled us by sneaking up on our conversation, it was the first thing I noticed.”
Gladys stifled a curse. She would have swatted Ruby in the side if it wouldn’t have made their conversation look even more subversive.
Katie Ruth didn’t appear to take offense. Her expression turned thoughtful as she touched the soft green leaves that added an elegant element to the sunflower arrangement. “I’ve been pretty stressed since Dan and I broke up. Then, last night, I did what I should have done all along.”
“You called him?” Ruby asked with a hopeful expression.
“I prayed.” Katie Ruth’s voice softened. “I turned my fears and grief over to God.”
Gladys could only nod, for once at a loss for words.
“I felt an immediate sense of relief wash over me.”
“I understand.” Ruby placed a hand on Katie Ruth’s arm. “When my Eddie died, I was heartbroken. I felt so sad and alone that I didn’t think I could go on. Only when I turned my sorrow over, did I begin to heal.”
Katherine inclined her head, her eyes narrowed on Katie Ruth. “You’re giving up on Dan?”
The question might have been a tad abrupt, but Gladys was glad Katherine asked. The same question had been pushing against her lips, waiting for the right time to be voiced.
“I’m no longer going to worry about the future.” Katie Ruth sighed.
The fact that she couldn’t quite muster a smile told Gladys the young woman wasn’t nearly as Zen as she appeared.