and left, a trail of anger and bitterness wafting behind him.
Seth sank back into his chair. He didn’t have far to go, because he’d never stood all the way up. Mr. White’s attack was a perfect blitz.
Removed. Discarded. Fired. No matter what word he used to describe what had just happened, they all had dire consequences. Not just for him, but for Evie too. She’d come to be the heart of this ministry. Sure, he was the preacher, but she had a way with people—a love that drew others to her and pointed the way to Christ.
Things had been strained between them lately. Not really strained, just off. Ever since that kiss and then the guitar …
What would she do if he wasn’t a preacher anymore? Would she be willing to go to another town, to start over, to build from scratch? Or would she leave him? He really didn’t know the answer to those questions, and that scared him more than Mr. White had.
He stood up, bumping into his guitar. He paused, a sense of something big hanging over him. He listened, straining for the prompting he’d been praying for when he’d settled into his desk. He was far from settled now, but that didn’t blur the message.
Play.
The sense that he was in the chapel, playing for the parishioners, came over him like a pillar of light.
He tried to shake it off. After all, the music he made was between him and God. It was sacred and came from the purest parts of his soul. He didn’t want to offend the Lord by making light of the gift He shared with Seth by acting like some wannabe Christian rock star.
Play.
He didn’t want to. Putting himself out there by singing a song he’d written was the hardest, most terrifying thing on the planet. He’d rather face an angry hippopotamus or be dropped in a fiery furnace.
“Really, Lord, if there’s a den of lions I could sleep in, I’d take that,” he said to the heavens.
An image of the pews full of lions flashed through his mind, and he chuckled. He’d always known the Lord had a sense of humor.
“Okay. I’ll play.” He picked up the guitar and plucked a few strings. The verse he’d read earlier came to mind. “I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in mine hand.”
If this was going to be his last Sunday as a preacher and as a husband, he would stand with his rod in his hand and pray that God be with him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Evie
It was four minutes after the hour, and Seth was nowhere to be seen. Evie checked the dainty watch on her wrist and forced a smile. People turned in their seats to look at her for answers, and she didn’t have one. Last she’d seen, Seth had been dressed, pressed, and ready to preach. She fought the urge to turn in her pew and stare at the back doors.
Mr. White stood out in the front pew, because he wore a full black suit—the same one he’d dressed up in for the funeral. His complexion had evened out, but his anger was as apparent as the other day when he’d about popped a tire on a pothole. His wife sat several inches away from him, as if he were giving off some sort of radiation or had a cold she didn’t want to catch. Evie hoped he was okay.
Where was Seth? She checked her watch again.
Terri slipped in and took a seat two rows back. Evie waved at her. She didn’t look happy either. People were not in the mood for good tidings today. Hopefully, Seth had some words for them. As much as she loved being a preacher’s wife, and giving service, these people needed to hear the word of God. It was only by faith in Jesus that they’d be lifted up.
“Sorry I’m late.” Seth strode in, carrying his guitar, of all things.
Evie’s jaw dropped, and she hurried to snap her mouth closed.
“I was lost in prayer, if you can believe it.”
That comment earned him a chuckle. He situated his tablet and a sheaf of music on the pulpit and leaned his guitar on the side. People sat up taller. There was a level of expectation in the air, and she heard several whispers about music and singing.
Evie’s heart expanded as she watched the man she loved do something that was hard for him. He was so brave, so strong, so humble