The Small Town Preacher's Fake - Lucy McConnell Page 0,44

All the thoughts and words she’d been feeling logjammed in her head, and she couldn’t get her tongue to move quick enough to express them.

He handed her the guitar. “Please … just put it away.”

His flat answer had a note of finality that she couldn’t find an argument before. When she turned, the Henderson family was right behind her. The way they averted their eyes told her that they’d heard the conversation and were uncomfortable because of the conflict that now sat firmly between her and Seth.

She forced a smile. “Tosha, that’s a beautiful dress. Is it new?”

Tosha nodded, her gaze darting back and forth between her and Seth.

“I’m just going to put this away. Have a wonderful Sunday afternoon.” Even to her, her voice was too high-pitched, too forced. She set her sights on the door.

“That was some mighty nice singing, Preacher,” Mr. Henderson said to Seth.

Evie tried to listen as she moved away, but Seth’s reply was lost in the after-meeting shuffle.

Terri stood up as she came by. “I’m going home.”

Evie stopped in her hurry to get the guitar back to the office. “Why don’t you come over here and I’ll drive us over to the—to see Scott?”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m not sure how I’ll feel about driving after, so that’s probably good.”

Terri preceded her into the lobby. Evie would have spent more time, but every moment she held the guitar felt like one more moment of betrayal to her husband. She’d been a horrible wife to put him in that position, and her conscience was fussing at her to fix things. She just didn’t know how.

She was greeted in the lobby by several older ladies—thankfully none of whom were Mrs. Farmly. She’d disappeared after the service. That gave Evie a few more days to work on her crochet before she had to answer any questions. Perhaps the application of faith was what she needed—more like the gift of tongues to interpret the directions, but she wasn’t above praying for that either.

“He did so well.”

“Has he been singing long?”

“It was just the thing.”

Evie smiled in response to the ladies’ comments. “Don’t tell me; tell him.” Please, please tell him. She prayed Seth would feel good about sharing his music, because the look he’d given her had been shockingly cold. And his words? They made her want to hide under the bed.

Don’t ever ask me to do that again.

Why had she even asked him in the first place? It was either a moment of panic or of pure inspiration. Sometimes, it was hard to tell the difference.

But if she was going off of the results, she’d have to say it was a bad idea, and she wished she could take it back.

Chapter Nineteen

Seth

Seth glanced down at the handwritten card that had come in the mail that afternoon. He’d gotten several already this week thanking him for singing, telling him how the song had touched a heart or brought up a sweet memory or made them let go of their stress and just breathe in the Holy Spirit.

He tossed it into his top drawer with the rest of them and continued to pace his room. Three days had gone by, and he and Evie were still out of sorts. He’d apologized for snapping at her, and she’d accepted. But things just weren’t the same as they were before.

He worried that they were ending the honeymoon phase. Wasn’t it supposed to last three years? Or at least one? They were barely into this marriage three months, and things were strained and conversation was stilted.

He’d messed up. So had she. She never should have brought him the guitar in front of the congregation. He’d been cornered, and then his secrets had been laid bare before the very people he was trying to serve.

Was this pride? Perhaps. Okay, yes, it was pride.

And yes, the response from the parishioners was 90% positive. Many of them had stayed behind to tell him how much they enjoyed the music and ask if he’d sing again next week. He’d put them off, saying he needed time to practice. Hopefully, after a while, they’d stop asking.

It wasn’t that he’d done poorly. He’d hit all the right notes and sung all the right words. It was that music was between him and God. It was their thing, Seth’s way to communicate with the Lord when the words just wouldn’t come. It was precious to him, and putting it on display would be akin to Moses charging a viewing fee