The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,1
life she could get behind. Taking meals to the needy. Tutoring children. She’d always felt this call to do more than she was doing, but she had to pay rent and buy food. There were only so many hours in the day. What if she could make serving others her life’s work?
The possibility was inviting. So much so that she felt called to it.
She’d been in prayer only moments ago, asking the Lord what she should do about her present situation, how she could improve it and move on from Owen’s betrayal, and the answer had popped up not a minute later.
“I’m going to answer him.” The words were thrilling and laced with gold and silver; they sparkled with possibilities. She snagged a sticky note and wrote down the ad number. There wasn’t an email listed, so the only way to respond was through The Matchmaker’s site.
“Wait!” Maisie followed her around the wall and back to her computer, throwing her arms across the entrance and blocking Evie’s way out in case she darted for the door. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am.” Evie brought her screen to life with a tap on the space bar and quickly found the site and then the ad. She let out a sigh of relief that it was still there. A part of her had expected it to disappear. This whole thing felt like a dream of some sort. Like she was watching herself type.
Maisie tugged on her chair, making it roll away from the desk and pulling Evie’s fingers off the keys. “You’re insane. Look, Owen is a jerk, but that doesn’t mean you have to throw your life away and marry a stranger. There are lots of great men out there.”
Evie scooted her chair back under the desk. “I’m not throwing my life away. Read the ad. He wants someone to help him tend a small flock. And if we’re married, then he provides room and board.”
“What does that even mean?” Maisie laced her fingers together and gave Evie a pleading look. “Please don’t do this.”
“What? A flock could mean he has several children he needs help with. Or that he’s over a youth group or something.” She glanced around her cubicle, which was full of inspirational quotes and pictures of kittens and puppies. “I like the idea of dedicating my life to helping others. I’m so tired of staring at gray walls and a computer screen all day. I was meant to do more.”
“Then become a nurse.”
Evie scowled. “Too much school, and way too many bodily fluids.”
“Um, hello? Children are full of bodily fluids.”
“Okay, ew.” Evie hesitated. She reread the ad. “He sounds like a good guy.”
“Ooh, so it’s a rebound thing.” Maisie perched herself on the desk, crossed her legs, and squared her shoulders. “Let me tell you how rebounds are supposed to work. You put on a black dress and make out with a hot stranger. Then you move on. But what you don’t do—what no one has ever done in the history of rebounds and had it turn out good—is get mar-ried.” She drew out the last word, enunciating both syllables.
“So here’s the thing.” Evie leaned back in her chair and gave her bestie a let-met-tell-you-something cock of her head. “I’m not the average woman. I don’t do rebound make-out sessions. It took a lot for me to kiss Owen on the third date. I move slow.”
“Yeah, but are you willing to spend a life stuck in platonic?”
Evie thought about it. While other women talked about how much they craved their men, she’d never had those … stirrings. Not deep enough that they took control of her rational thought. “I think I’ll be fine with that.”
“Ugh! You’re the only person I’ve met who might actually make it as a nun.”
Evie laughed. “I’m not catholic.”
“You should be,” Maisie called over her shoulder as she went back to her cubicle. A moment later, a huff of frustration sounded as Maisie landed in her chair.
Evie read through the ad once more, taking into account that advertising for a wife was a strange thing to do. What kind of a man did that? A man who was desperate, for sure. But desperation came in so many different layers.
When it came down to making the decision, she put her trust in God. Closing her eyes, she calmed her mind and felt with her heart. It felt right.
She typed a note to the mysterious man and sent it off, leaving the outcome up to