“That’s true, Katie-bug. I don’t have anybody to make me turtles, so I’m extra glad to have this one. I’ll put it in my office so I can see it every day.” He’d add it to the collection of Vacation Bible School crafts and Sunday school projects that Arlene was always pestering him to throw away.
His secretary was wasting her breath because he planned to hang on to every lopsided Popsicle stick and faded scrap of construction paper on that shelf. Katie Barker had summed up why with the artless truthfulness of a preschooler. Three-legged turtles were better than no turtles at all.
Arlene, as usual, had stationed herself at the tail end of the line. She didn’t bother to comment on his sermon. She never did. “When you preach a bad one, I’ll let you know,” she’d told him once.
He believed her.
“That piano needs tuning,” his secretary informed him, riffling through her black purse for her car keys. “I’ll set it up tomorrow morning.” She scanned Jacob’s face with narrowed eyes. “You don’t look so well. I sure hope you haven’t caught that flu Good Shepherd’s passing around.” She snorted. “Isn’t that just like those folks? You go do them a favor, and what do they give you in return? Germs!”
Jacob rolled his eyes. Pine Valley Community and Good Shepherd had a long-standing, mostly amicable rivalry that had started on the softball field and which Arlene tended to take a little too seriously. And she wasn’t the only one in his congregation who felt that way. Maybe it was time for him to give his We’re All on the Same Team sermon.
Again.
“I’m fine, Arlene. Just tired. Listen, how much money do we have in our benevolence fund right now?”
“I don’t know exactly.” The concern in Arlene’s expression shifted to suspicion. “I’d have to check. Jacob, this doesn’t have anything to do with what happened at that wedding yesterday, does it? Because that poor bride is Good Shepherd’s problem, not ours.”
“I don’t think she’s a member there, and anyway, I was the minister present when everything went to pieces. I feel responsible for her.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.” His secretary glanced warily in the direction of the door. She waited until the last members of the congregation were safely out of earshot before speaking again. “And I’ll tell you this—after missing that meeting yesterday, the very last thing you need to do is start doling out our benevolence money to somebody who isn’t even a member of our church.”
“Was Digby that upset?”
“He wasn’t upset at all, which was far worse, I can assure you. He spent the entire meeting hounding the church board about that fellowship hall. He’s won over three more of the members. You know what that means.”
Jacob’s heart sank. He knew, all right. If it came to the floor now, the fellowship hall approval was only one vote shy of going through.
“And that’s not the half of it. Digby brought up that nephew of his at least four times. He’s graduated from seminary now, and what’s worse, he’s gotten married! Digby was passing the wedding photos all around the conference table.”
Jacob started to chuckle, but he caught a glimpse of Arlene’s expression and cleared his throat instead. He’d never seen her this upset before, not even on that Wednesday evening last summer when a bat had blundered into the sanctuary and started dive-bombing the senior ladies’ prayer meeting.
“What’s wrong with the nephew’s wife?”
“Nothing! That’s the problem. She’s everything a minister’s wife should be. The girl’s a pianist, and her parents are missionaries. I’m telling you, it could hardly be any worse.” His secretary glared at him suspiciously. “This isn’t the least bit funny, Jacob. It was plain as day that Digby’s angling to put his nephew in your place, and if you don’t stop worrying about other churches’ jilted brides and focus on your own problems, you may very well find yourself looking for another job!”
Thanks to Arlene, it was nearly one thirty when Jacob finally drove up Lark Hill’s rutted driveway. No battered Jeep was in sight, so the runaway groom must not have returned. Natalie was nowhere to be seen, either. She was probably inside resting with her feet up, or doing whatever else pregnant women were supposed to do, he told himself. That was most likely why the place looked so empty.
Still, he quickened his step as he mounted the shaky porch. He knocked firmly. “Natalie? It’s Jacob Stone.”
He had to knock twice before he heard her coming down the hall. When she finally opened the door, his heart lifted with sweet relief.
Natalie Davis was just fine.
She looked good, actually. Her brown hair was swept away from her face in a simple ponytail, and she was dressed in a blue-and-white-striped maternity top with matching pants. She’d folded the sleeves back over her elbows, and she clutched a damp rag in one hand. Even though the April afternoon was unseasonably chilly, there was a faint sheen of perspiration on her face, and she smelled like freshly sliced lemons.
She didn’t, however, look very happy to see him. “Hi.” The polite smile she offered him didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He gave her his warmest one in return and hoped for the best. “Hi! I’m glad to see you survived the night.” He made the comment lightly, but he meant every word of it. He wasn’t about to leave Natalie out here alone again, not without setting some sensible safeguards in place.
Which was going to be difficult if he couldn’t even make it past the door. “Do you have time for a quick visit?”
She bit her lip. “I’m...kind of busy right now. I’m cleaning.”
Nice try, but during his time as a minister, Jacob had charmed his way past more doors than he could count. “Really? I’d love to see how the place is shaping up. I won’t get in your way.” He smiled again. “Scout’s honor.”
Natalie hesitated another few seconds. Then she sighed and opened the door. “All right.” She poked her head out onto the porch and scanned the yard. “You’d better come in quick, though. That Rufus goat was out of his pen this morning, and he seems to want to come in the house. He was at the back door just a minute ago, but he can be really fast when he wants to be.”
So could Jacob. He was inside before Natalie could change her mind.
Things at Lark Hill had definitely improved. The living room had been dusted, and an aqua-and-silver vacuum cleaner, the kind with a long hose attached to a round wheeled tub, sat in the middle of the floor. It looked ancient, but it must have worked because everything was a lot cleaner. She’d taken down the dingy curtains, and sunlight sparkled through the bare windows, casting golden rectangles on the floorboards.
“You really have been cleaning.” It came out like an accusation. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
She glanced up at him, her eyes startled wide. They were clear and bright today, and just the color of the spicy amber tea his grandmother had always brewed at Christmastime.
“I don’t like dirt,” she answered simply, “and anyway, I’m just using plain old dish soap and water. That’s not going to hurt anything.”
As Natalie led the way into the kitchen, Jacob halted in the doorway, stunned.
The litter of trash had vanished. The worn countertops and appliances shone, and the chipped enamel sink was empty of dishes. A raggedy broom leaned against one corner, the peeling linoleum floor was neatly swept and a bowl of sudsy water sat on the table. The lemony scent was strong in here. She must have been in the middle of scrubbing when he knocked.
This kitchen had been a