by Lynne Gentry
His eyes found Amy’s. A twinge lifted the corner of her lip.
David stuffed his notes under his father’s Bible and took a breath. Instead of the tirade he’d prepared, a verse his father had taught him years ago flowed from his lips. “Let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God.” As he emphasized the word love, he noticed Amy swallow hard. “...for God is love.”
Silence hung over the sanctuary.
David inched the toe of his father’s shoe against the stool hidden beneath the pulpit, the stool he and his father had built for David’s first sermon. “J.D. Harper was a man who loved. When I look out across this auditorium, I know my father learned the meaning of sacrificial and unconditional love from you.”
David scanned the crowd, letting his gaze fall upon Etta May and Nola Gay. These two shriveled up women had parked themselves on his parents’ couch every Sunday morning for as long as he could remember. They were quirky, nosey, and opinionated but generous to a fault.
He took a breath. “For years, some have used their gift of generosity to cover the contribution shortfalls. Not out of abundance, but rather a generosity of spirit. Widow’s mites offered in faith.” The older twins shifted in their seats, blushing at his praise.
David let his gaze drift to Amy’s aunt. “Some have used their gift of hospitality. No one in Mt. Hope comes down with a cold, has a baby, or goes home from the hospital without a full-course meal and lots of delicious chocolate.” Everyone knew exactly who he was talking about, including Bette Bob who was suddenly very interested in the floorboards. “And this same quiet servant has even opened her home.” His gaze paused on Amy. Her smile of understanding was gas to his fire.
David turned to the owner of the local paper, the man who’d hired him as a scrawny teenager to throw papers and had now hired his mother as a journalist. “And then there are those who take chances and give job opportunities to those who don’t deserve it.”
Momma glowed from her place on the front row. But David couldn’t stop there.
His gaze honed in on Maxine and instead of anger he felt compassion. “There are some who’ve had many reasons to leave.” The elder’s wife stiffened. “To move their membership and take their significant contributions with them. But they’ve stayed at Mt. Hope Community. Why? Because this church is their family. They love us.” He stopped short of saying, prickles and all, when he noticed tears streaming down Maxine’s face. “And we love them.”
David wrapped his hands around the edge of the pulpit. “I confess I’m not my father. Loving unconditionally does not come easily to me. Growing up as the preacher’s kid I often felt like I was living under a magnifying glass.” David smiled, the first real smile he’d offered these people since his first sermon atop the stool. “But I’ve finally learned what my father knew all along about this church and the people who fill these pews...you see all my faults, but you love me anyway...encouraging me through my struggles.”
David reached beneath the pulpit and pulled out his old step stool. “You accepted me when I chose the law rather than the pulpit. You cheered me on when I wandered from the law to studying history. And when I came busting back in here, determined to save my parents’ life work, you clapped me on the back and told me to have at it.”
Fighting a wave of emotion, David ran his fingers over the name his father had carved in the stool. David. “It is because I have experienced your unconditional love, I know it is possible for you to love everyone the Lord sends through our doors...even those on the fringe. Love like this is salt. And there’s a hungry world out there. Forgive me for daring to think you would let them starve.” He slid the stool back in place, then closed his father’s Bible. “Next Sunday, I hope you’ll not only join us for a special Christmas Eve service, but invite your friends. Nellie’s band will rock the house.” Bible in hand, he descended the steps of the stage, stopped at the front pew, and offered Momma his arm.
She smiled like he was a rock star and slipped her hand through the crook in his elbow. Together they walked toward the sanctuary doors to face whatever came next.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Amy hung back, her heart aching as she watched each member hugging David before they filed out of the sanctuary. She’d never admired this church more. Nor did she think it possible to love this selfless man any more than she did at this very moment. David hated making himself vulnerable, and yet he’d trusted his feelings to the very people he’d felt had judged him. And she knew why.
He’d meant it when he said he wanted this church to grow. And he wanted it to grow in more than attendance numbers. He wanted Mt. Hope Community to become everything his father believed possible. He longed to make a difference in this world as much as she.
Her heart was torn between wishing David’s version of unconditional love hadn’t so blatantly included her and knowing she couldn’t let David throw his newfound love for this church away. He had so much to give. To this town. To these people. To a woman who could give him the family he deserved.
David’s eyes met hers over the crowd of people surrounding him. His smile, the intimate one she’d seen after their kiss, beckoned her to come to him...unconditionally. Her heart pushed every argument from her head. If he could learn to trust, couldn’t she? She stepped into the aisle and bumped into Nellie.
“Sorry, Nellie. I—”
“It’s Cornelia.” Cornelia started to say something else but was cut off by a wave of coughing. She snagged Amy’s arm indicating she wanted her to wait. When the torture of listening to each raspy hack subsided, Nellie whispered, “I’ve been meaning to ...”—she cleared her throat, flipped her hair over her shoulder, exposing her long, slender neck—“call you.”
“Call me? Why?”
“David and I had a long chat over dinner the other night about the Christmas Eve program I’ve been rehearsing and—”
“Dinner?”
“More of a date, really.” Nellie’s voice was hoarse and gravelly. Probably from the same long, late-night rehearsals that were also taking a toll on Aunt Bette Bob. “Anyway,”—Nellie dug through her large Gucci purse—“I promised David I’d ask you to sing Mary Did You Know at the Christmas Eve show.” She pulled out a piece of sheet music. “Here’s the arrangement we’re using. Rehearsal tonight. Here. At five.”
She wanted to ask why Nellie had waited until it was far too late to master this difficult song, but instead she asked, “Nellie, how long have you had that lump at the base of your throat?”
Nellie’s hand flew to her neck. “A month. Maybe two.”
“Two months and you haven’t had it checked?”
“I’ve been busy, okay?”
“No. It’s not,” Amy said. “Is your throat sore?”
“Well, sure. I’ve been singing every night trying to get ready for Christmas.”
“Sore as in strep-throat-kind-of-sore or more of an achy pain?”
“Pain, okay?”
“Any problems swallowing?”
“Look, you’re a nurse. Not a doctor. I’m fine.”
Amy looked Nellie square in the eyes. “I think you should have it checked.” Over Nellie’s shoulder Amy caught David’s brown-eyed gaze. His smile was a lifeline she would miss if she wasted another minute arguing with someone who clearly didn’t want her advice. “But your health is your business.” She started toward David, but Nellie angled her body and cut Amy off from the man waiting for her at the sanctuary doors.
“Your sudden concern has nothing to do with my health, does it?” Nellie pinned Amy to the end of the pew. “You’re trying to put me out so you can steal my show, aren’t you?”
“I’m not stealing anything.” Amy thrust the music back at Nellie. “I’m not singing.”
An evil twinkle flashed in Nellie’s eyes. “Oh, I get it.” She rolled the sheet music and poked Amy’s shoulder with it. “You’re mad because David needs a girl like me to get him where he wants to go. You think I’ve stolen your chance to live
happily ever after with the new pastor in the parsonage.”
Amy glanced at David again, but he was no longer looking at her. The Story sisters had diverted his attention. Flanked by his mother, David was laughing, enjoying the members of Mt. Hope Community like she’d never seen him do before. He was at home.
Mother. Loyal, loving son. And the hope of future generations.
Suddenly a sad image washed over Amy. David was standing alone at her grave. There were no children to support him in his grief. No future generations offering hope. Had she heard what she wanted to hear during his sermon? Could David really be happy without a family? Believing she would be enough for any man was like believing in Christmas miracles.
Amy pushed the music away. “You can’t take what I never had.” She wheeled.
Instead of going into the arms of the man she loved, she hurried to the other end of the pew.
From the corner of her eye she saw David coming for her. “Amy.”
Before he could reach her, she cut right and headed for the back door and the lonely role she’d accepted long before Nellie Davis took the stage.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
David could have sworn the smile Amy had given him during his sermon meant his willingness to trust the congregation with his feelings had broken through her crazy barriers. Then, after church, when their eyes connected across the crowded sanctuary, he knew his message had gotten through. One minute she was making her way toward him, the next she was running the opposite direction. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn Nellie had something to do with Amy’s disappearance, but when he’d questioned Nellie, she claimed she didn’t know what happened. All she’d done was offer Amy a plum song, which Amy had thrown back in her face.
He had to confess he’d been a bit surprised that Nellie had actually done what he’d asked and invited Amy to sing, but then Nellie had surprised him on many levels. She’d transformed Mt. Hope Community’s ragtag band into something pretty decent. She’d given him a detailed list of everything that had to be done, programs, decorating, refreshments, etc., which was great since he had no idea how to put on a Christmas Eve service and he didn’t want to burden his mother. But Nellie had even convinced him to let her ask his mother to help with some of the decorating. He could see the need to be needed had done Momma a world of good.
He’d given Amy a couple of days and several missed phone calls to explain. He checked his phone again. Not one reply to all the calls and texts he’d sent. Angus had let it slip that Amy planned to drop by the Koffee Kup and help him get enrolled in school. David threw on his jacket and set out for the diner. He intended to camp out in the back booth until she showed.
The bell above the diner door jangled.
Angus looked up from behind the counter, an incriminating grin on his face. “Hey, David. Just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Want some?”
David covertly scanned the diner for signs of a certain blonde. His hopes sank. No sign of Amy. He didn’t want to tip Angus off by asking if he’d missed her. “Is your coffee safe to drink?”
“He makes the best coffee you’ll ever have.” Ruthie swiveled around on one of the bar stools. “Only had to show this boy how to operate the Bunn one time and”—she snapped her fingers—“he had it down pat.”
“I did most of the cookin’ for me and Mom.” Angus scratched his head. “But it’s a little different cookin’ for a crowd.”
“He’s a natural,” Ruthie bragged. She leaned in and whispered, “Did you know a sprinkle of salt over dry coffee grounds keeps the brew from getting bitter?”
David sat on the stool next to Ruthie. “I did not.”
“Me neither,” Ruthie said. “I’m telling you, my grandson is a sharp one.”
“Awe, MeMaw.” Angus set a steaming mug in front of David. “She always go on and on like that?”
David lifted his cup. “Ruthie’s usually more generous with her fries than her praise.”
“People can change,” Ruthie said.
“I’m counting on it.” David took a sip. “Coffee does taste better with a hint of salt.”
“Which brings up something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Angus put his elbows on the counter and planted his head in his hands, his face very serious. “You know how you talked about being salt Sunday?”
“What about it?”
“Can anybody be salt?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.” Angus smiled. “I’ve been thinking...I’m real grateful for all you and the folks at Mt. Hope Community did for me.”
“Makes us happy to see you so happy, Angus.” David took another swig.
“I want to be salt,” Angus said, firmly.
David blew coffee everywhere. “You do?” He’d never expected his preaching to actually change someone.
“What the boy is trying to say”—Ruthie ripped napkins from the holder and mopped up David’s mess—“Can anybody be part of Mt. Hope Community or do you have to be somebody special to join up?”
“You are somebody special, Ruthie,” David said. “And we’d love for you to join us. In fact, I could use some help.”
“What do you need?” Ruthie chucked the wet napkins in a bin behind the counter. “You name it.”
“You sure Angus isn’t too busy with school?” David asked fishing for info on Amy.
“Amy signed him up yesterday, but the principal said he might as well wait until after the first of the year to get going.”
Trying not to let his disappointment show, David said, “Okay then. Bette Bob usually comes to the church on Christmas Eve day to make all the brownies for the refreshments after the service,” David said. “But the band will be rehearsing right up to the time we open the doors. Know any good cooks?”
Angus grinned. “Do I ever!” Angus wheeled and stuck his head through the pass-thru and yelled, “Ollie, you can come out now.”
A weathered old man with rut-sized cracks in his face shuffled out from the kitchen. Long, dirty strands of hair hung like fringe from the bald place on his head.
Maxine’s warning about vagrants stacking up pounded in David’s head. “Who do we have here?”
“This is Ollie.” Angus draped a protective arm around his friend. “He’s the reason I didn’t starve to death out on the road.” Angus’s smile lit up his eyes. “Ollie’s the best cook you’ll ever find, well except for my MeMaw.”
“You’re darn tootin’.” Ruthie glowed. “However, I’m hirin’ Ollie on today.” Ruthie slapped her thighs. “Tell you what, David. After all you and the good folks down at Mt. Hope Community have done for me, I’ll loan y’all both of these fellas to do your Christmas Eve baking.” Ruthie popped the counter. “Heck, I’ll even provide all the supplies.”
David’s head whipped from Angus to Ruthie then back to Ollie. Anxious, hopeful smiles lit their faces. No, the light of Jesus lit their faces. Pleased laughter reverberated in David’s head and he knew exactly where it came from...his father.
He had to admit something about this glorious outcome pleased him too. Immensely. More than he could have ever expected. Almost as much as it would have pleased him to have caught Amy sneaking into the diner on her lunch break.
But to turn over something as important as the Christmas Eve refreshments to these new recruits gave him a bit of heartburn. David thought about pulling Angus aside and warning him about how easily bad friends could corrupt good morals, but then he remembered his own sermon.
Time to practice the unconditional love he preached. “Then meet me at the church first thing Christmas Eve morning and we’ll bake some brownies.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Mother, I’m perfectly capable of driving myself to the airport.” Leona searched her purse for her van keys while her mother’s wheelchair blocked the kitchen door.
“What if Maddie gets delayed?”
“I’ve checked the airline and Maddie’s flight hasn’t been delayed by the weather in Chicago.”
“What if you’re needed for some last minute Christmas Eve show prep?”
“Nellie was sweet to ask,”—Leona dug through a side pocket.—“but the girl doesn’t really need me.”
Roberta flicked her wrists in exasperation. “What’s the use of having a chauffeur if we can’t send him on a few errands?”
“I don’t have a chauffeur. You do.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it’s not, Mother.”
Roberta sighed. “Melvin’s been with me for years and I don’t want to have to let him go, especially not right before Christmas.”
Leona quit pawing through her purse. “Why would you let Melvin go?”
“I just don’t need him as often anymore.”
“You mean since you go everywhere in that rattletrap vehicle of the church janitor,” Leona teased.
“For your information, Cotton drives a very well-maintained classic. A collector’s item, really.”
“Like you.”
“I won’t be in this wheelchair forever, Leona. Remind me to kick your backside when I get my legs under me.”
“Cotton is a good man.”
“It doesn’t bother you that Cotton and I are...dating?”
Leona started to laugh but then she noticed her mother’s embarrassment. This question was important and it deserved a serious answer. “Mother, I adored my father. But Daddy’s been gone for ten years. He would have wanted you to be happy.”
Roberta lifted her chin in pleased agreement. “He would have wanted me to spend every last dime.”
This time, Leona couldn’t contain her smile. “You’ve always spent every penny Daddy made on your pleasure, and not once did I see it make Daddy anything but happy.”
Her mother pushed at the back of her hair thoughtfully. “As much as I hate to admit this, Leona, I was wrong about J.D. I’ve watched your church friends rally around you and I’ve heard all the wonderful things they’ve said about your husband and I’ve learned something very important.”