New sexy underwear. Sawyer’s favorite dress. His favorite meal. Fresh strawberries waited in a bowl on the counter, but she hoped she would be his dessert of choice.
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the door open.
“Hey,” he said as he entered the room.
She watched his eyes skim over her. “Hey,” she answered, trying to keep it casual. “Supper’s almost ready. You hungry?”
“Famished.” He paused, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “You, uh...you look pretty.”
That’s a start. Don’t scare him away. “Thanks.” She started the corn cooking in the microwave and pointed to the plate of tomatoes. “I was out in the garden—you can put those on the table—and I got sweaty and itchy. I had to take a shower to cool off. By tomorrow, we should have a nice mess of okra.”
The light came on in his eyes—the one she hadn’t seen in far too long—as it dawned on him that tonight she wasn’t going to try to talk about their problems. She watched the transformation as his shoulders relaxed and the lines disappeared from between his eyebrows. With an easy, compatible fluidity, they fell into their routine of her dishing up the food and him setting the table, and for the first time since Memorial Day, her hopes ran high that perhaps the dry spell was over.
After supper, she set the second part of her plan into action. “Let’s walk down to the park. Are you up for that?”
His hand hovered motionless for a moment before he placed the dish into the dishwasher. “Yeah. Sure. If you want.”
Faith’s pulse quickened. That he was willing to face the park together was a positive sign. She adjusted the strap of her new bra and smiled to herself.
Sawyer wiped off the countertops while she swept, and when the kitchen was clean, they started their stroll to the park at the center of town.
They’d managed to stay under the radar because, since Tara’s accident, their park visits had become more sporadic rather than a daily occurrence. One or the other of them would show up a few times each week, armed with plausible excuses about the other’s absence. Tonight’s two-minute walk was a journey of a thousand miles as it was the first time they’d made it together since the Memorial Day Faith would never forget.
The park, which had no other official name because it was the only one in town, was the official gathering spot for the whole community. On any given night, you could catch up on the happenings of the day within a ten-minute period.
It was the park where everyone came after weddings to celebrate, after funerals to mourn and after births to pass out cigars and roses.
It was the park where Sawyer had proposed to her in the gazebo under the stars after everyone had gone home for the night.
It was the park where Tara had taken her first step in an endeavor to join the children playing on the swings.
The park at the center of town was the center of the town’s life. The heart of Taylor’s Grove.
As they approached, the sweet strains of “Gentle Annie” being played by Ollie Perkins on his violin met Faith’s ears, and the poignant tune encouraged her to slip her hand into Sawyer’s and pull him in the old man’s direction. He didn’t protest. While macular degeneration was doing its best to steal away the last vestiges of Ollie’s sight, his ability to make the violin sing seemed to increase in an indirect proportion to what he lost. His renditions of Stephen Foster tunes could squeeze a tear from the devil himself.
Bobo Hudson vacated his seat beside Ollie and motioned for Faith to sit down. She could hardly refuse, but felt the sting of disappointment when she had to let go of Sawyer’s hand.
Ollie finished his song. “Ev’nin’, Faith.” He turned his head slightly and nodded in her direction.
“How’d you know it was me?”
The disease had wiped out Ollie’s central vision almost completely, but left a bit of the peripheral. He wiped his forehead with his trademark red bandanna. “I recognized your cologne.”
She patted his knee affectionately. “You gonna play my favorite?”
She always requested “Shenandoah,” and he always obliged, but, this time, he shook his head and tucked the bandanna between his chin and the chinrest on his instrument. “Nope, not yet, anyway. Got something different tonight. I was thinking today about Tara, and how she’d always ask for something Irish she could dance a jig to. Well, since she’s in Paree, I thought we might just join her there, instead.”
Faith cringed inwardly and cut her eyes to Sawyer, who blanched at Ollie’s words as “Pigalle” rolled off the strings. The subject of Tara’s being in Paris still cut Sawyer to the quick. He barely lasted until the song was over, then hurried away to join a small knot of men who always discussed the county’s politics while they refereed the checker game between Johnny Bob Luther and Kimble Sparr. Faith, however, was stuck in Ollie’s audience for a while longer.
She tried not to despair...hoped the mood of the evening hadn’t been spoiled completely by Ollie’s innocent comment.
When Al and Mary Jenkins walked up, Faith gave up her seat to them and found her way back to her husband’s side. He and Tank Wallis were discussing how badly the crumbling steps on the front of the church needed repair. The project had been at the top of Sawyer’s list for months now, but he couldn’t get the maintenance committee, which Tank was the chairman of, to get off dead center with it.
“Some of those cracks are getting so big, it’s just a matter of time before somebody catches a toe in one and breaks a hip,” Sawyer declared.
“I hear you, Preacher, but it’s not time to fix them until Sue says it’s time.”
The mention of Sue’s name reminded Faith of their little verbal skirmish that morning, and with it came a flicker of irritation. The woman’s power over the church, over the town and, yes, over Sawyer, was sickening.
Sue hadn’t earned that power. Her daddy, Burl Yager, was the one who sold a huge tract of land on Kentucky Lake to a developer. And it was Burl who built the Taylor’s Grove Church out of that money and set up the trust fund that paid for the upkeep of the building, as well as the preacher’s salary. Burl had been a fine man who loved the church and wanted it to thrive.
When Sawyer, as a teen, had surprised everyone in town by accepting God’s call to become a minister, it was Burl who’d paid for his college and seminary study. But, when Burl died, Sue had inherited everything, except his benevolence. The church had tried to circumvent her ways by forming committees. But that had done little good. Sue held the purse strings.
“I’ll talk to Sue again,” Sawyer said, but his tone indicated he doubted that would do any good.
A chuckle rolled out of Tank’s big belly. “Maybe you ought to send Faith this time.” The big guy gave her a knowing wink. “Word from the prayer group says it’s one to nothing in Faith’s favor.”
Sawyer sent her a questioning glance. He hadn’t heard yet. Good. At least she could give him her side first.
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “No scorekeeping in Taylor’s Grove. We’re all playing for the same team.” Turning her attention to Sawyer, she added, “Strawberries are going to get mushy if we don’t get back and eat them pretty soon.”
He nodded. “Can’t let that happen. See you tomorrow, Tank.” He patted his friend’s shoulder in parting. They crossed Yager Circle and headed down Main Street before he finally asked, “So are you going to tell me what happened at prayer group?”
She dreaded bringing up the subject of Tara’s trip, and related the incident to him as innocuously as possible, stressing Sue’s general displeasure of Tara’s nature.
Just