But then, she shouldn’t be thinking of him anyway. He was the preacher. A man of God. Certainly not her type. Not that she was looking. She’d sworn off any long-term relationships, and she certainly wasn’t ready for anything else. She thought of the tiny church up the road and willed herself to push away the memories of another church that had been located on the outskirts of town. Gone now. Torn down for new commercial real estate.
“I don’t normally eat so much,” she continued in the small-talk vein. “But Aunt Hattie is famous for her meals, and Marla is amazing with sugar and flour and butter.”
“A dynamic duo,” he said, the smile bright on his face again. “I need a long Sunday-afternoon nap.”
She could picture him kicked back in a recliner, snoring softly. That did make her smile.
“I’d think you don’t get to rest much,” she blurted to get rid of that warm, fuzzy feeling. “I mean, being a minister.”
“I get eight hours of sleep most nights, but things happen. A death, a birth, a trip to the ER, a hospital visit now and then.” He gave her a quick but concise glance. “Sometimes people need to talk, even in the middle of the night.”
Vanessa got that image in her head, too. Her reaching for the phone, calling him. Telling him her worst fears.
She tried again with the small talk. “And you have to be there for all of those things.”
“Spoken like someone who might know.”
“I don’t know much,” she said, her tone sharp in her own ears. She didn’t like the direction this conversation seemed to be heading—toward her. “But it’s obvious enough.”
“I guess it is,” he said, his words somber now. “My reputation precedes me.”
He’d misunderstood. Most people did whenever she made disparaging remarks regarding church. But she never explained her reasons for staying away from organized religion.
She wanted to say it wasn’t his reputation she based her assumption on, but those of other people. Only, she wasn’t ready to get that personal with him. She didn’t plan on being around this man after today anyway. She had plenty to keep her busy.
“You seem to be popular with your people,” she said.
“God’s people,” he corrected with a smile. “I try to help them along.”
They came to a big swing centered underneath an arbor covered with jasmine. The fragrant scent of the tiny yellow-and-white flowers and the droning hum of bees made Vanessa wish for something she couldn’t even define.
“Want to sit and watch the egg hunt?” he asked.
She glanced at the swing and then back at him. “I don’t know. I mean, I should be going. I have a lot to do tomorrow.” Needing to explain, she added, “I’m here to clean out my mother’s house. She died a few weeks ago.”
His expression turned compassionate. “I’m sorry. Did she live here?”
“She used to. She moved to a retirement and nursing facility in Alabama. She hadn’t lived here in years.”
He nodded, his expressive face couched in a calm that made him change from boyish to good-looking. “I get a day off tomorrow. If you need any help.”
“I don’t think so. This is one of your busy weekends. You need to rest after your big day.”
“Yes. But then, I consider every Sunday a big day.”
Vanessa gave him a hesitant smile. “I think I’ll go and tell the others I’m leaving. It was nice to meet you—”
“Rory,” he said. “Call me Rory.”
She nodded and headed back to where Marla and her parents were helping Gabby find the colorful eggs. The little girl giggled and showed off her treasures while Roxie squeaked out excited barks and ran circles around the adults.
Angus watched the whole show from a warm spot on the brick terrace near the porch. The older Border collie didn’t have a care in the world.
Aunt Hattie met her near the house. “We’re so glad you came today, Vanessa. I hope you’ll visit again.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” Vanessa said. “The food was so good, Aunt Hattie.”
“Nothing like a home-cooked meal to nourish us, even if it does require a few extra calories.”
Vanessa hadn’t had many home-cooked meals growing up. “I can’t argue with that.” She hugged Aunt Hattie, the scent of sweet almond surrounding her. “I have to go, but I wanted to thank you again. Let me tell Marla I’m leaving.”
“Oh, she wrapped you a plate,” Aunt Hattie said. “I’ll go fetch it.”
Vanessa didn’t need a plate full of leftovers, but she wouldn’t be impolite by turning it down. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wished she’d had this kind of family growing up. But in that other place, the dark spot that colored her world in grays and browns, she figured she didn’t deserve this kind of family.
She wished someone had trained her in proper manners or on how to actually conduct small talk. She wished she’d been happy in any of the many places her mother had dragged her. She wished she’d had nice clothes and pretty things.
And she really wished she’d had someone to truly love her.
But she couldn’t change any of that now. Vanessa had learned about all of these things mostly on her own by studying people and reading books and watching television and movies. She’d learned how to dress by working in retail and devouring fashion magazines and with the help of her mother’s last husband, Richard Tucker, who’d taken them on shopping trips. And she’d learned how to stay on her budget by shopping vintage and reworking second-hand clothes.
She still had to learn the truly-loving-her part. She didn’t always love herself very much.
She sent Rory a brief glance and then dropped her gaze to her sandals.
“Hey, I’ll come by next week and help you out with getting ready for the estate sale,” Marla said as she hurried up to Vanessa. “I’ll even find some able-bodied helpers to do the heavy lifting.” She cast a glance toward Rory. “An estate sale is a big job.”
A job Vanessa dreaded. “Yes. But...it has to be done.”
“Are you gonna be okay, doing this?” Marla asked, her green eyes full of understanding and sympathy.
“I’ll be fine.” Vanessa glanced over to where Alec sat at a round wrought iron table with Rory. Were they actually having more cupcakes? “I have to get the house ready to sell, and I can’t do that until I empty it out.”
“Your mother was a pack rat from what I hear,” Marla said with a smile. “I know this has been hard, Vanessa.”
Vanessa nodded. “Yep. Especially since she and I never got along.” She stared at the swing, where she could be sitting right now with Rory. “I guess I’ll get to know her a little more now that she’s dead, at least. I never could figure her out when she was alive.”
“You did your best.”
“I left.”
It was that simple. She’d left after one divorce too many and after one particular stepfather’s bad behavior. It didn’t matter that her mother had tried to make amends to Vanessa after Cora had married Richard, her final husband. At least Richard had been kind to Vanessa during the short time she’d lived here with her mother and him. A good man, a very wealthy man,