The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,31

soft words only lovers would share, and as long as she didn’t listen, she could withstand any temptation.

“Yes. You spend all your time following that husband of yours around his job.”

Evie blinked in surprise. “Well, I don’t consider it just his job—it’s a calling to the ministry—”

“I know, I know. But you have to have something of your own.”

“I do?” Evie still wasn’t sure where this was going.

“And that’s why I’ve decided to teach you to crochet. This Tuesday, 11 a.m. Don’t be late.” She set her purse in her lap and folded her hands over top of it. “It’s not optional. You need to be yourself, and it will give us a chance to chat.”

Oooohh. A light went on in Evie’s head. This wasn’t so much about her learning to crochet as it was about Mrs. Farmly needing company. “I won’t be late. But I’m bringing something sweet to share, so you be prepared.”

“That’s fine.” She dipped her chin once in agreement.

Evie grinned. Mrs. Farmly thought she was winning this little game of invitations and who-serves-whom.

The faint scent of old cigarettes hit her nose, and Evie sneezed into her elbow.

“We ain’t late, are we?”

Evie turned to see Terri, the redheaded nurse, standing in the doorway, with one hand on her hip and the other hooked through the arm of a man who looked like he’d rather be stretched on a medieval torture rack than walk into a church. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his dark eyes danced around the room like he was a rat planning his escape through a maze.

Their small congregation turned to stare at the newcomers who hadn’t bothered to bring their inside voices.

Dusting the surprise off her face, Evie strode down the aisle as quickly as she could, determined they would be met with a friendly handshake and a welcome. “Terri, right?” She held out her hand.

Terri shook it eagerly. “You remember me?”

“Of course. It’s wonderful to see you again—and all dressed up.” She nodded to the faded Levi skirt and tight blouse. “We’re so glad to have you here. Who is this gentleman?”

“This is my husband, Scott.” She jerked a thumb at him. “I told him all about your preacher, and he don’t believe me. Tell him, will ya, that he preaches a real nice sermon full of Jesus? And he sings too.”

Evie wished he would sing for the congregation. She’d heard him through his closed door and had fallen under a spell. She pressed her nails into her palm to bring her back to the present moment and away from a soulful daydream full of Seth and his guitar. “Why do you think he sings?” she asked.

“Well, I saw his guitar in the office. It was all beat up and used-lookin’. I assumed he was one of those New Age preachers.” She tightened her hold on Scott.

“You’re correct that my husband does in fact play, but he doesn’t play in public,” she said diplomatically. “I hope you’ll join us and hear his sermon today. I’ve read it, and it’s wonderful. There’s a few empty seats this way.”

A few? There were plenty, but she didn’t want to sound like she was worried about attendance. If anything, Terri’s appearance today was a beacon of hope that their group of faithful would grow. They just needed to have faith and continue to work hard—the Lord would provide the miracles.

“Here we are.” She showed them to an empty aisle.

“Well, now, Terri, you go right on in there. Ladies first.” Scott put his hand on Terri’s back and all but shoved her into the pew.

Evie glanced at him and decided not to take the small space between him and the end. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit right behind you.”

“Okay.” Terri nodded.

Scott flipped up the collar of his polo shirt and sank low in the seat. He glanced behind him at the door one more time.

Evie held back her chuckle as the term “reluctant saint” came to mind. She waved at a few people as they came in, smiling even as one of the elderly men made a show of turning down his hearing aid.

Seth came in, looking smart in his light-blue shirt. Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t think clearly.

When she had herself under control once again, she thought about what Terri had said about Seth playing for the church. He’d been working on a song last night in his room. She’d fallen asleep to the gentle strains wafting