by Lynne Gentry
“Not a soul in this world, pretty lady.”
“That seems so unfair.”
He let his head loll toward the window. “Life ain’t always fair.”
She was in the middle of charting the boy’s sketchy medical history when a soft knock at the door drew her attention. “Up to a visitor, Angus?” she asked her patient.
Angus closed his eyes. “Not really.”
“I’ll tell them to come back later.” She left her computer and went to the door. “David?”
“Sorry it took so long.” David’s mussed hair looked as if he’d forgotten to look in a mirror after he’d hurriedly pulled a t-shirt over his head and thrown on his leather jacket. “Had to take a hatchet to all the governmental red tape.”
While this casually dressed David appeared much more approachable than the suited man she’d tangled with after church, she was surprised by the warrior concealed beneath his thick skin. He’d gone to battle for someone less fortunate without a moment’s hesitation. Yet, he was still noticeably anxious. Uneasy, like he’d been when she took him back to see his grandmother after her hip surgery. That day, she’d read the tension in his jaw as his aversion to hospitals, but now she wondered if the real culprit was an aversion to her.
The possibility that there were many things she’d misread about this man prickled her skin. “Have you eaten?”
“I’ll grab something later.” He shoved his hand in his jeans pockets. “How is he?”
She glanced over her shoulder. Angus gave her a hit-the-road thumb signal. Amy nodded toward the hall. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.” She took him to the coffee machine hidden in the small closet behind the nurse’s station. She filled a cup. “Take anything in it?”
“Black’s good.”
Their fingers brushed when she handed off the cup.
A weary grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “Big spender.”
“It’s the least I could do after you spent the afternoon helping me help Angus.” Close enough to worry that her racing heart could be heard within the confines of the small space, she covered by saying, “So, what did you find out?”
David swallowed a quick sip. “You sure his real name is Angus Freestone?”
“He doesn’t have any ID on him so I guess we’ll just have to take him at his word. Why?”
“According to the military, Angus Freestone never served.”
“It was a long shot.” She resisted the urge to rearrange the stray strand of hair that had fallen across David’s forehead. “Thanks for trying.”
“So what happens now?”
“First, we get him back on his feet.”
“Drug rehab?”
“He’s not an addict as far as we can tell.”
“If you believe that, I can see why you also believe his name is Angus Freestone.”
“Look, I screwed up. Okay?”
“Whoa. You lost me.” Confusion knit David’s brow. “I thought we were finally having a civil conversation.”
“Breathing hard. Thirsty. Abdominal pain. I missed a life-threatening condition.” Reciting the boy’s obvious symptoms out loud made her feel even guiltier. “I assumed he was homeless because of illegal substance abuse. I judged him.”
“We all did.” He snagged her arm. “Wait a minute. How do you know he’s not an addict?”
His hold wasn’t anything like the angry grip he’d had on her after church. This time his fingers wrapped her in support, a sensation she hadn’t felt since her parents died. “His blood and urine tests came back clean.”
“So why was he acting all crazy?”
“DKA.”
“You’re going to have to help me out here, Amy.”
“Diabetic Ketoacidosis. Confusion is one of the symptoms. No telling how long he’s had episodes of stumbling around. He didn’t even know he was diabetic.”
“Then how were you supposed to know?”
“I should have caught his fruity breath.”
“How? Kiss the guy?” His dislike of his own suggestion set her back.
“You don’t get it.” Her body quivered with pent-up emotions. “He could have died right there in the church.” The moment the words came out of her mouth, David’s expression sobered. “I’m sorry,” she rushed on desperate to repair the damage. “I didn’t mean to bring up ... I wish I’d been there when your father had his heart attack. Maybe I could have done something for him and ... today had to have been very rough for you and your mother.”
“Don’t beat yourself up.” David emptied his coffee cup. “The man looked and smelled like roadkill. I didn’t notice his breath either.”
David Harper obviously didn’t want to talk about his father.
So noted.
She didn’t know why she’d let herself cross such a dangerously personal line. Despite the support his touch lent her now, their previous encounters hadn’t exactly forged a friendship. So why was she charging on, busting a gut to tell him everything? “In nursing school they test you on stuff like body odors. Today, I failed.”
He chucked his empty cup in the trash. “Tomorrow you won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
His eyes locked with hers. “You strike me as the kind of woman who never makes the same mistake twice.”
She stopped babbling like a crazy woman and stared at the guy who’d just seen something admirable in her. “I wish that were true.”
“What do you mean?”
“I judged you, too. And I’m sorry.”
“I had it coming, don’t you think?” When she didn’t respond, a teasing grin poked dimples into his cheeks. “C’mon, admit it.”
“Sort of.” Amy smiled in spite of how difficult he was making it for her to apologize. Her aunt was right. Deep down, the preacher’s son was a decent guy. Why else would he put his whole life on hold to come home and help his mother? “I know how it feels to lose someone you love,” she said softly.
His playfulness vanished behind the shadow that came over his face. “That’s what everyone says.”
She hadn’t meant to sound trite. However, she wasn’t willing to confess she’d seen herself in this man’s reaction, would have taken the statement she’d just made in the very same way. She recognized his anger flare-ups for what they were, the identical protection mechanisms she still employed whenever the raw ache of her loss overtook her. Being rude kept people at a safe distance. Distant people did not have to be loved or trusted to stick around. If she didn’t love, then she couldn’t get hurt when they left her.
She took a breath. “I also know it takes a while before you’re at your best again.”
“Guess it’s good to know I won’t always feel like punching every patronizing ...” David didn’t finish his thought, obviously embarrassed that she might have thought he meant her. “I better let you finish your shift. Call if our friend Angus needs anything.”
“David,” she touched his arm. Every muscle in his arm tensed beneath her fingers but he did not pull away.
“You’re not going to tell me it will get better, are you?” His doubtful tone struck something raw inside her.
“No one can promise that.” She held out her right hand in one last attempt at a truce. “Thanks for everything.”
This time he was the one who cut their physical contact short, as if the hum passing between their locked hands shocked him as much as it did her. “Hey, what are pastors for, right?”
David left her to chew on her earlier indictment of his inability to minister. She regretted goading him about the church. Saving Mt. Hope Community Church would take all of them working together. But that didn’t mean the urge to brush the strand of hair from his dark chocolate eyes and tell him he wasn’t alone should be her next order of business.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I thought I smelled coffee.” Momma breezed into the kitchen, trailed by the dog. She opened the back door and Tater shot out into the yard. “Why are you up so early?”
> David raked his hair. “Why are you so dressed up on a Monday?”
Momma took her favorite mug from the cupboard. “Modyne frowns on tardiness.”
David cringed inside. Momma deserved his support. “I forgot you have to go to work today.” He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to his mother working at anything other than being a pastor’s wife. On the other hand, she seemed comfortable in a jacket, skirt, and heels...almost as if she’d finally put on her real skin and he was proud of her. “I bet you’re the best-dressed obit reporter this town has ever seen.”
“Thanks.” Momma’s brows knit. “I think.”
He’d mentally replayed his conversation with Amy a million times. He didn’t need another degree to know his communication skills with women needed work. “No, I mean you look professional.”
Momma smoothed her skirt. “I’m a little late to the employment game to call my new job at the Messenger a profession.”
“Whatever you want to call this new adventure, it suits you, Momma.”
She gave a little shrug. “Jury’s still out on whether or not Ivan Tucker keeps me.”
“Ivan knows a good thing when he sees it.”
“Appreciate the vote of confidence.” She patted his back on her way to the dishwasher just like she had so many times when he was a boy. “What’s on your agenda today?” She retrieved a clean bowl.
He took a deep breath and braced himself. “I thought I’d go to the office.”
Momma straightened and closed the dishwasher door with her hip. “What office?”
“Dad’s.”
“Oh.” She stiffened and set the bowl on the counter. “Does this mean you intend to go through with your plan to take your father’s place?”
He weighed the words he’d been practicing since four this morning. The last thing he wanted to do was to disappoint her if he changed his mind. “I want to try it.”
She took his cheeks in her hands. “You don’t have to do this for me, David.”
“I have to do it for me.”
Her eyes searched his. When she located his resolve, the stubborn streak she’d never been able to bend to her will, she kissed his forehead. “Since you insist on hanging around, I could use your help.”
Finally, something to make him feel less like a heel and more like a man worthy of his mother’s admiration. “Name it.”
“You remember Saul Levy?”
“The JAG lawyer who used to come to church once in a while?”
“He traveled a lot until his wife died a couple of years ago. He’s retired from the military and set up a private practice here in town.”
“You’re not trying to throw me off my plan and set me up to go into business with Saul, are you?”
She shook her head. “He called yesterday. Said I should get started on probating your father’s will. I didn’t even know your father had a will. I’ve made an appointment with him today and I’d like you to go with me.”
“Dad didn’t tell you he’d executed a will?”
“No.” She pulled out the stool next to him and sat down. “It’s so unlike your father to keep secrets.”
“Maybe he wanted to make things easy as he could for you, which is what a will is for.”
“I don’t see how a will could make any of this easy.”
David ran his finger around the rim of his cup. How had the man who never seemed fazed by living in a glass house kept such a big secret? And why would he? “Let’s get Dad’s affairs settled so we can plan the future.”
She swallowed hard. “Settled sounds so...so final.”
He understood her reluctance to close the door on things left unsaid. He would give anything for five minutes to apologize to his father. “Probate takes a while. We’ll tell Saul to take it slow.” He took the cereal box from her shaky hands. “Where can I find Dad’s mystery attorney?”
“He’s renovated the space above Dewey Hardware.”
“When do I need to be there?”
“After lunch.”
“Breathe, Momma.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We can do this.”
An hour later, David was showered and standing in the freezing wind swirling outside the door of the church office. For the past five minutes, he’d been giving himself the same pep talk he’d given his mother with her cornflakes.
The intercom crackled.
“You comin’ in or not, David?” Shirley’s voice reminded him that perhaps he, too, wasn’t quite ready for his father’s departure to be final. And that’s exactly what would happen the moment he stepped into his father’s office and assumed his father’s place.
He could do this. He had to do this. David blew into his cupped fists then gave a thumbs-up signal to the small security camera mounted under the eaves. A buzzer sounded.
“It’s op—” Shirley cut out.
After a couple of deep breaths, David pulled on the unlocked door. He wiped his feet on the mat and followed the musty carpet toward the office complex.
Complex was a generous term, a term coined by the elder board and one they used lavishly in the pastor’s job description they’d posted online. The first minister candidate, the one David had helped leave town in a hurry, had believed he was coming to work with a full-fledge staff. The complex was really nothing more than a cubby hole for Shirley, the antique church secretary; a small youth minister’s office that had been empty since David was in middle school; and his father’s office.
David adjusted the laptop bag cutting into his shoulder. “Hey, Shirley.”
“James David Harper!” The silver-haired woman grabbing him in a big bear hug was the only person he allowed to call him by his full name. She let him go and pointed at the candy dish on her desk. “I’ve got a new stash of baby Snickers tucked away just for you.” She’d bought his affections years ago with pieces of chocolate and he wasn’t ashamed to let her keep making installments.
He lifted the lid to her crystal candy dish. “I think we are going to work together just fine, Miss Shirley.”
“Had your daddy’s back for eighteen years.” She teared up. “Would consider it an honor to have yours for eighteen more.”
He felt the noose slip around his neck. “Good to know.”
She yanked a tissue from the crocheted box cover and dabbed her eyes. “So you’re staying?”
The knot at his throat tightened. “If the Board approves an interim position.”
“They’d be fools not to.”
“I don’t know, Shirley. Dad left some pretty big shoes to fill.”
“Whether you stay eighteen days or eighteen years, I’ll count every minute a blessing. You did a fine job yesterday.” The office phone rang, but Shirley ignored the flashing red light. “Probably just Nola Gay wondering what I’ve found out about that drifter who passed out in our fellowship hall.” Shirley peered over her glasses. “What should I tell her?”
“He’s still in the hospital. I don’t think he’s up for visitors.”
“Poor Amy.”
“Poor Amy?”
“I’m glad that drifter didn’t die on her watch. That girl’s suffered more loss than someone her age should ever have to bear.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her parents were killed in a car wreck a few years ago.”
David’s felt his stomach drop. When Amy said she knew how he felt, she was one of the few who’d actually experienced an unexpected tragedy. Even worse, her heartache was double his. He couldn’t come close to wrapping his head around such a tragic loss. Now he really felt like a jerk. “I didn’t know.”
Shirley scurried back around to her seat. Her hand hovered over the ringing phone. “Bette Bob’s always been like a second mother to her. That’s why Amy came here after she finished nursing school. And let me tell you, if she ever gets her voice back, this town will be doubly blessed. That girl used to sing like an angel.”
“What happened to her voice?”
Shirley spun her finger by her ear. �
�I think it’s emotional. ‘Course Bette Bob’s sayin’ it’s strained vocal cords or some kind of yet-to-be diagnosed chronic throat infection, but,”—Shirley leaned forward and lowered her voice—“I’ve read about kids losing their ability to speak after a tragedy and well ... I just wish Amy could have sung something for us yesterday. You’d have melted in your pew.”
Much as he hated to admit that he’d already experienced Amy’s ability to stir all kinds of emotion in him, he was hopeful the little truce they’d negotiated outside the vagrant’s hospital room had negated his constant need to smooth things over with her. Whether or not the girl could sing didn’t matter to him. Years as a PK had trained his heart to remain solidly in place.
He pointed at the blinking light on Shirley’s desk. “Want me to get that phone before Nola Gay has a stroke?”
“Oh, no.” Shirley held him off with a flattened palm. “I’m the secretary. You’re the pastor.”
“Interim.”
“We’ll see.” Shirley picked up the receiver and pressed the light. “Mt. Hope Community Church. How may I serve you?”
David left Shirley to believe what she wanted to believe. Truth was, finding out about Amy’s loss had put his commitment issues in perspective. He’d been so wrapped up in his own grief he’d never considered the possibility someone else could hurt worse. His father had always said whenever folks were throwing rocks at the pastor you could almost bet they were hurling their own hurts. Although Amy didn’t strike him as someone desperate to have others notice her pain, her experience did explain her lack of patience for his bad humor.
He walked down the dark hall, suddenly very aware that filling in for his father would require more than learning how to prepare a convicting sermon. He had been gone from Mt. Hope for several years. He couldn’t assume he still knew everything about everyone in this town. Perhaps it would serve him well to start by taking a fresh look into the lives of the members of Mt. Hope Community Church. Life had changed him. Maybe some of them had also experienced life-changing events.