“That must have been hard for you.” Jacob didn’t even want to think about the day when his own grandparents or parents would go to be with the Lord. His chest hurt with sympathy for Mara.
“Yes.” She closed her planner and picked at the edges with short, unpainted nails.
“Did he have any family? Children?”
She gave a negative shake of her head. “No. His wife died forty years earlier and they’d never had kids. I think that was one of the reasons he took such an interest in me when my mother and later my father died.”
“That was good of him. I’m sure he meant a great deal to you.”
Her sad smile and little sigh made Jacob want to wrap her in his embrace and offer her some comfort. He resisted the urge. He didn’t know her well enough to be sure she wouldn’t see his gesture as some sort of advance.
Jacob refocused. “Is there a worship director? A youth pastor?”
“Well, Grace plays the organ on Sundays. And there’s a real nice couple who’ve started up the Sunday School classes.”
He felt his stomach sink. He’d assumed there would be a team of pastors just like in his grandfather’s church. Why hadn’t Grandfather mentioned the lack of staff when he’d sent Jacob to Hope? “So I’m it.”
“You’re it.” Mara stood, her black organizer clutched to her chest. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jacob rose, amazed his legs could hold him with the shock he’d just been given. “Tomorrow.”
He walked her to the door.
She hesitated at the threshold where she tilted her face and peered at him with those amazing eyes. “You’ll do fine, Pastor Durand.”
He wished he shared her confidence. “Call me Jacob.”
“I don’t know if being that informal is a good idea.”
Arching an eyebrow, he asked, “Why?”
Tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth, she seemed to be searching for words. Finally, she said, “It seems disrespectful to call you by your first name.”
Hoping to put her at ease, he grinned. “Respect comes through attitude. Whether you call me Jacob, Jake, like people did in college, Pastor Durand, or Durand won’t make a difference in the respect I have for you—and won’t make me feel disrespected—because I know you have a pure heart.”
The stricken expression in her eyes confused him.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something to offend you?”
“No. No, I—” She swallowed. Her grip on her organizer tightening. “I need to leave now.”
“Okay.” He touched her upper arm. She trembled beneath his palm. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
With a slight stretch of her mouth that wasn’t really a smile, she nodded. “Bye.”
He watched her hurry down the walk and out onto the road. She didn’t look back, but he thought he saw her wipe at her eyes. Probably just pushing those wild curls out of her face. Odd girl, likable though. Definitely would make living in Hope interesting.
He closed the door and picked up his guitar but didn’t play. “Okay, Lord. I know You have some plan going on here. But You didn’t prepare me for this.”
No pastoral staff, no help. Just him. Whew!
He picked out the chords to “Amazing Grace.” Three years of seminary, tucked away in a classroom studying the Bible, had given Jacob a deeper understanding of God and His word. But the few practice sermons in front of his classmates weren’t going to cut it.
If Jacob were a different sort, someone like…his dad, or Karen, or Mara, with her little black organizer and her uptight need to stay scheduled, he’d be hyperventilating about now.
As he played the melody over and over again, he sought peace in the tune, sought peace in God.
He couldn’t forget that this was his chance to prove himself worthy of his grandfather’s church that much faster. A means to an end.
He only hoped Mara’s prediction came true.
Chapter Three
Thursday morning Mara showed up driving an older red Jeep. Jacob opened the passenger door and immediately the smell of cleaning products assaulted his senses.
He glanced in the back and saw a huge white tote full of cleaning supplies. “Why don’t we take my car?”
She stared at him blankly for a moment. “Is something wrong?”
“I’d be more comfortable if I drive.”
With a shrug, she said, “All right.”
She put the Jeep in Park and climbed out, but not before grabbing her black planner. Didn’t she go anywhere without it?
Jacob led the way to his black SUV and held open the passenger door for Mara. As she climbed in he caught a faint whiff of flowers coming from her mass of curls. Apparently she hadn’t cleaned a house yet today, thankfully.
She wore baggy jeans and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt that hung on her, covering any suggestion of curves. Not that he was looking. But he did find it interesting that she wore such unappealing clothes.
“Which way?” he asked, once he had the car’s engine purring.
“Left for about a fourth of a mile then right for three blocks then left again. That will drop us onto the north end of Main Street.”
Only a half-mile long, the town of Hope wasn’t what he’d expected. Though nothing like the city of San Francisco with its towering concrete and glass buildings and ornate turn-of-the-century homes, he’d expected wooden sidewalks, rustic storefronts and a slow-paced world. Instead, he found a bustling little town with a personality all its own.
Colorful flags hung suspended over the road by barely visible wire. Large picture windows flanked every door of every shop and restaurant on both sides of the street, giving the occupants a wide view of those passing by either on foot or in cars.
“Park there.” Mara pointed to an empty space in front of a bakery at the south end of town.
He parked and they climbed out.
“We’ll walk up this side, make a loop by coming back on the other side.”
Amused, he leaned against the side of his car. “You have it all planned out, don’t you?”
“We have to be efficient. I’ve only got an hour to spend with you this morning. I have two houses to clean before coming back to clean the cottage.”
“Well, I’m hungry. Let’s get a pastry.” He walked past her and into the bakery. The most delicious smells greeted him as he entered. Cinnamon and sugar. Banana bread. His stomach rumbled.
He could feel Mara’s tension as she stepped up beside him at the counter. A tall, blond man in his early forties wearing a white apron over jeans and an orange T-shirt greeted them. “Hi, Mara. Sir. What can I get for you?”
“I’d like a sticky roll and a latte, please. Mara?”
Her lips were pressed tight. “Nothing for me. But make his to go. Rob, this is our new pastor. Pastor Durand, Rob Ferguson.”
Rob offered his hand with a huge smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor Durand. Grace said you’d arrived.”
Jacob shook his hand over the counter. “Likewise. Do you own the bakery?”
Pride shone bright in Rob’s expression as he moved to get Jacob’s order. “My wife and I do. We’ve been in Hope for about ten years now.”