The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,15
should have thought about what I was going to say.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” His dark brown eyes did that warming thing as he held her gaze for a moment longer. He headed down the hallway once more, his shoulders back and his spine straight.
Her insides went all melty, and she sagged against the doorframe for support. Maisie would absolutely die if she knew how lucky Evie was—not only did she get a good guy, but he had a sense of humor. One that matched hers, apparently.
She didn’t want to test that theory too hard—not on the second day since meeting and marriage, and certainly not at a funeral. Somber organ music began to play in the chapel, floating through the building like a fog of grief.
She wiped her hands on her pants and determined to take charge of this luncheon and not do anything to distract from the memory of the deceased. She would be the model preacher’s wife, even if it meant she had to literally bite her tongue.
A steady flow of funeral casseroles, salads, cakes, and hams came in as the viewing progressed. Murmured voices and soft condolences floated down the hallway. The women who dropped off food didn’t stay to talk. It was Saturday, and there were things to do for their families and in their busy lives. No one asked if she was the new preacher’s wife, and she didn’t volunteer the information. Evie had attended enough church to know how quickly interest spread and gossip started. Anonymity was her closest ally for the time being.
Evie played word association games in an effort to remember names, but there were ones that slipped through the cracks of her frazzled mind as she laid out bags of rolls and scooted dishes around in the oven to make room for one more.
The grieving family moved from the viewing room to the chapel for the funeral service, a procession of black dresses and long faces.
By the time the food was all taken care of, Evie felt more like a Martha than a Mary, all cumbered about. What she really needed was some scripture. She stood in the hallway, just outside the open doors, listening to the hymn.
Along with her need to calm her shaking hands, she was curious about what Seth would say. This was his first time at the pulpit in this building, and she wanted to be there to support him as well as listen. She had no idea what kind of a preacher he was.
Hellfire-and-brimstone preachers were hard for her to listen to for weeks on end. Seth wouldn’t be like that, would he? She couldn’t imagine him pounding the pulpit and thumping the Bible. Something in the soft touch of his fingers on her back told her more about him than his ad had. He was full of a gentleness that spoke to her soul.
She listened for a moment before sliding around the corner and standing in the back of the room.
The building was older but well kept. The pulpit was in the center of the front of the room. Made of beautifully carved walnut wood, it shone with furniture polish and care. On either side were large windows that flooded the room with natural light. Directly behind the pulpit was a stained-glass window depicting an open tomb and light streaming down from heaven.
The walls were eggshell white, and the floor was covered in light-blue industrial carpet. Easy for wheelchairs to traverse while keeping the noise level down. A vaulted ceiling was framed with large beams stained dark.
Evie wrapped her arms around her, feeling the welcome of being in a house of the Lord. Her spirit cried out that it missed the peace, the time spent with Jesus, the love that always seemed to fill a chapel like the hush over a room before someone important arrived.
Seth made his way to the pulpit. He was so handsome that her heart rate tripled. He started out by welcoming everyone to the Life of Grace Ministry and thanking them for sharing this day with him.
Evie settled into his voice. It was deep and abiding. Strong like a river, yet calm.
It had been a couple years since she’d been a part of a congregation. Owen had pulled her away from worship services with seemingly important activities on Sunday morning. Brunch with clients. Last-minute adjustments to a presentation. Food shopping. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the peace in a church building until she walked back in.
There were church