The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,22
only done it twice this week. She didn’t dare ask why, because it felt too … intimate. They shared a living space, yet there were things she couldn’t talk to him about.
Like her fears that she was going to drive him away by being an oddball.
“We—” he began, and she almost swooned over his use of the word we. Oh, how she loved the sound of that we. “—have our fair share of octogenarians.”
“Which we’re going to change. Somehow, someway, we’ll figure out how to bring more families in. We can do this.” She brushed her hand over his shoulder, removing invisible lint. It was a good excuse to touch him. Something she’d been doing more of lately.
He paused for a moment, a look of wonder on his face. “I believe you.”
She blushed under his gaze. It was so honest, so admiring. No man had looked at her like that before. “Knock ’em dead.” She punched him in the shoulder, proving that she could take an already awkward moment and make it even worse.
He nodded, his lips pressed firmly together. “I’ll try.”
They walked down the hall together. Evie was acutely aware of how close their hands were. It would be so easy to reach over and hold hands with him as they walked. She talked herself out of it and made a fist to keep the appendage from getting any ideas of its own.
The chapel was half full. There were some beautiful hats to admire as she took her seat in the back. Maybe she should sit up front to show her support for Seth, but there were several elderly people with hearing problems taking up the first few rows.
Right as Seth cleared his throat to welcome them, a nurse in pink scrubs that clashed horribly with her red hair pushed a man in a wheelchair through the door.
“Sorry!” She held up a hand. “I’m sorry we’re late.” She set him at the end of a row next to one of the few small families in attendance.
The Mitchells had one little boy, Jerom, who was about five, and another on the way. They’d been the first group to welcome her last Sunday, and their beautiful little family was so easy to remember in this group of predominately bald heads.
The little boy stared at the older man wrapped in a plaid quilt and slumbering away. Jerom reached out a finger as if to poke him. Sam, the dad, shoved his arm back to his side and gave him a look that told him to hold still or else.
The nurse leaned over Jerom and stage-whispered to Sam. “I’m just going to leave him here for a minute and catch a smoke outside.”
The man suddenly lurched about, making his chair rattle.
“Is he okay?” asked Camille. She absently ran her hand over her swollen belly. She was due any day now.
“Oh, he’s fine.” The nurse batted away her concern. “He likes the music. Might even try to dance.” She winked and rushed out the door, tapping her box of cigarettes against her palm as she went.
“Welcome, everyone.” Seth’s deep voice filled the room, drawing attention away from their visitor.
Evie drew in a breath, relishing the sound of Seth’s voice. He had the power of speech within, soothing and yet commanding. He gave the opening prayer, and then they all sang together.
Evie watched to see if the old man would indeed try to dance. He held pretty still. He was pale and leaned precariously toward the pew. Jerom looked at him more often than not. It was like he couldn’t stop. Sam nudged him and pointed to the words in the hymnal.
Evie glanced at the back doors, wondering how long the nurse would be out.
After the music ended, Seth began his prepared sermon about Peter the Beloved. “I think we can all relate to Peter’s need to provide for his family and his desire to serve the Lord. He had real-world concerns.”
There were nods.
Evie’s heart warmed and her love for the people in the congregation grew as she watched them support her husband. Seth hadn’t come from a place of love; he’d landed in one, though. At least, she hoped so. The members of the board had stony faces.
There were two teenagers in attendance today, but there should be more. She’d talk to Seth about starting that youth program again. They almost had the yard under control, and she’d have some free time.
Seth continued, “Worldly concerns might have been what Peter struggled with, when he