out of him. Maybe his prayers were only repetition of other phrases he’d heard or bits of verses he’d read. Maybe the whole relationship-with-God thing had always been a farce but he just hadn’t known it until after he sobbed and prayed and trusted that somehow Rachel would live but she didn’t.
He slammed his hands on the desk and stood, his pulse racing. Had he seen proof of God’s presence in people’s lives, or had he only seen happenstance? He needed to know for sure. If it was real, he wanted it back. Maybe he wanted it back even if it wasn’t real. Because he’d been content then. And contentment, even born of ignorance, was so much better than this constant flip-flopping of emotion and attitude.
Somewhere in the building, a vacuum cleaner was running. Which meant Lori had come back this morning to finish what they hadn’t done last night. She’d argued with him about helping, but after her meltdown and emotional confession at Kenzie’s and then her long conversation with Brother Kraft, it’d been late and she’d seemed as weak as a newborn kitten. So he’d cleaned the bathrooms, and she’d taken care of the kitchen and fellowship hall. But they hadn’t gotten to the classrooms, hallways, and sanctuary. Maybe he could help her. He wasn’t getting anything else done.
He stepped into the hall, and at the same time, Brother Kraft came out of the main office. The men stopped, face to face. Jase pointed toward the sanctuary’s closed doors. “I was going to check on Lori.”
Brother Kraft smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Great minds think alike. Leah heard the vacuum start up and suggested I peek in on her. How about if we go together?”
Jase didn’t want to be rude, but neither did he want to go to Lori with someone else in tow.
“Then after we assure ourselves she’s doing all right, I’d like to talk to you. I’d intended to chat with you yesterday evening, but things went a different direction.”
Jase and Lori had invaded the minister’s supper, derailed his plans, and monopolized a good chunk of his evening, but Brother Kraft spoke of it as casually as if his personal time held no value at all. But of course it held great value. Jase cringed. “I’m sorry we messed up your night. But I’m also glad you were available.” There he went with the flip-flopping again. Couldn’t he hold to one feeling or opinion at a time?
Sister Kraft stepped into the main-office doorway, one fist on her hip and fire sparking in her blue eyes. “You did not mess up our night. There’s no reason for apologizing. But Merlin does need to talk to you, so I’ll go check on Lori. Merlin and Jase, choose an office—I don’t care whose, as long as it isn’t mine—and have a sit-down. I’ll be right back.” She charged between them up the hall and disappeared around the corner.
Brother Kraft watched after her, then winked at Jase. “Now you know who really runs this outfit. So…your office or mine?”
His had windows. “Yours, please.”
Brother Kraft turned around. “This way, then.”
Jase followed him through the secretary’s office to his study. The room was three times the size of Jase’s with floor-to-ceiling bookcases along one wall and windows on two—a pleasant place to sit. Instead of going behind his desk, which actually resembled an old farm-kitchen table, Brother Kraft gestured to two brown leather wingback chairs. The far one faced the north and looked out over an empty field. Jase took it.
Brother Kraft settled in the other chair, folded his hands, and bowed his head. “My dear Father, thank You for this beautiful day and the opportunity it provides for us to serve You.”
It took a moment for Jase to realize the man had launched into prayer. He quickly closed his eyes and bowed his head. While he listened to the older man repeatedly refer to God as “Father,” a pressure built in his chest. When Jase talked to God, he said “God” or “Lord.” “Father” seemed more intimate but, to Jase, alien. He’d never called anyone “father” because he’d gone his whole life without one, and he’d never missed it as much as he did in those minutes while Brother Kraft spoke to his heavenly Father with such ease and familiarity.
“Amen.”
Jase echoed, “Amen,” more in response to the intimate tone the pastor had used when talking to God the Father than to the actual prayer. He met the man’s smiling gaze