“Thanks, but I can manage.” She snapped the notebook shut.
“Even if you can, that’s not the point.”
“Of course it is. I’m just doing what Nolie’s family would do, if she had any.” Why couldn’t he let it go? “The groom’s family is responsible for putting on the rehearsal dinner, that’s all. I don’t intend to impose on them for anything else.”
“You seem willing enough to enlist me.”
He had her there. “Only because you’re the one who wanted to make a deal, remember? Besides, you’re going to marry them, so you’d be involved to some extent anyway.”
“The family wants to help.” He had that look again— the one that said he’d keep digging until he understood what made her tick. “Why won’t you let them?”
She managed to keep a cool smile on her face. “Because I don’t want any help.”
“Why?”
Exasperation made her lose her grip on her temper. “You sound like a two-year-old. Why, why, why? Just leave my motives alone and take care of your part of this wedding, Pastor.”
Now she was the one who sounded like a two-year-old. In the middle of a tantrum.
But Brendan shrugged, seeming to accept at last that he wasn’t going to get anything else from her. “If that’s what you want.”
She turned away. His voice stopped her before she’d taken more than a couple of steps.
“But at least you could be honest with yourself about why you need to close out the Flanagan family from planning this wedding.”
“Okay, guys, hit the road. I need to lock up.”
Brendan held the gym door for the few teenagers who’d hung around to talk after a game of basketball. Claire had been meeting with Stacy this evening, and maybe he had finished in time to talk with her.
Claire had been evasive over the last few days. That was his fault. He’d pushed her too hard the last time they’d talked.
“Why don’t you let me have a key, Rev?” Rick Romero leaned against the door, one eyebrow lifted in a challenge. “I’d take good care of it.”
“Sorry, Rick. I’ve lost too many keys that way.” He kept his voice friendly, but firm.
“You mean you don’t trust us with a key.” Rick’s expression had darkened, his hair-trigger temper always ready to see offense whether intended or not. The other kids pressed behind him, primed to follow Rick’s lead.
“If I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here at all,” Brendan pointed out. He held his breath, knowing the issue could go either way.
Rick glowered for another moment, and the situation hung in the balance. Then he shrugged, his smile flashing. “Hey, it was worth a try. See you later, Rev.”
With a few careless waves, they were gone. He closed the door and locked it, aware as he did so of how futile the gesture was. There were a dozen easy ways into the building if someone really wanted to break in.
He was taking a chance with those kids, walking a tightrope they didn’t even know existed. One instance of vandalism or thievery would be enough to bring the church board down on him with both feet.
He switched off the lights and started toward his office. Would Claire stop by? She’d done that several times after meeting with Stacy, staying to share a soda and talk. He’d started looking forward to it.
She probably wouldn’t tonight. He thought again of their conversation on Saturday. Ostensibly about the tables, it had ranged a lot further. He’d pushed too much, both about her faith, or lack of it, and her relationship with the rest of the Flanagans.
If Claire had belonged to Jesus as a child, she still did, whether she believed that or not. God would not let go of her easily.
Father, reawaken Claire to that knowledge of You that she had as a child. I’d like to be Your instrument with her, if that’s Your will.
His worry eased with the prayer. Claire’s spiritual well-being was ultimately in God’s hands, not his. As for her attitude toward the family—well, he couldn’t pretend he understood it, but he’d like to.
His steps quickened. The light was on in his study. Through the open door, he saw Claire sitting in the visitor’s chair, the lamplight making her hair glow.
A wave of pleasure swept over him, startling him with its strength. He’d known he wanted to see her. He just hadn’t known how much.
“Claire, hi. How did it go tonight?” He tossed his keys onto the desk and swung to face her.
She looked up, and he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.
“What is it?” He reached toward her instinctively. “What’s happened?”
“Stacy.” Her eyes had darkened with what seemed to be a combination of frustration and anger. “She’s pregnant.”
He took an involuntary step back and bumped into the desk, struggling to get his mind around the ramifications of that unexpected blow.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure?” She surged out of the chair as if she could no longer be still. The movement brought her close enough that he could smell the spicy scent she wore. “How can I be? Stacy’s sure. She says she took three different tests and they all came out positive.”
“I guess that’s sure enough.” He ran his hand through his hair, then gripped the back of his neck. “This complicates things.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He wasn’t sure whether the edge in her voice was for him, for Stacy, or for the whole situation.
“Honestly, Claire. I never suspected. I’m sorry I got you involved.”
“You should be.” A bit of dark humor flashed in her eyes. “I thought I was just helping her get a job. I could probably do that, but I’m not qualified for pregnancy counseling.”
Something flickered in her face as she said the words, gone so quickly he might have imagined it.
“How is Stacy taking this?”
She shook her head, her hair brushing against her cheek. “What do you think? She’s on a roller coaster. One minute she’s talking very sensibly about having the baby adopted by a family that can take good care of it. The next, she’s indulging in some rosy dream about Ted turning into a model husband and father. As if that’s likely to happen.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“I suppose you think that was a mistake.” Annoyance with him colored her voice. “But Stacy has to face facts. If Ted slapped her around just because he was frustrated about supper being late, he’s hardly likely to improve with a baby to take care of.”
“They’re both so young.”
He knew the statistics, only too well. The chance that Ted and Stacy could make a success of marriage, even if that were what both of them wanted, wasn’t very good.
“She’s agreed to go for counseling with someone qualified to advise her, if I go with her.”
He studied Claire’s face. In spite of her obvious exasperation, she didn’t look as if she intended to bail out at this point.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
“No.” That honesty of hers pleased him. “But I will. Can you set it up?”
He nodded. “I have some names I refer people to. I’ll check on who would be the best counselor for Stacy and get back to you. Has she told her mother?”