Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy - Janice Lynn Page 0,77
shouldn’t lie to herself that way.
What was Cole doing at church?
He certainly didn’t belong inside these hallowed walls. Not because he didn’t believe in a higher being, but just because the things he’d done had permanently tainted him inside. Some things were unforgiveable.
He was unworthy to have stepped foot inside the doors.
And yet, here he was. Cole wasn’t a man who felt fear often and gave in to it even less, but Sophie sure had a way of pushing him outside his comfort zone. Not that he was necessarily afraid of being at church; it was more the woman who had motivated his donning his only pair of dress slacks and a white button-down that made him nervous. He’d topped his best attempt at “church clothes” with a black dress coat that had belonged to his uncle and somehow made him feel less vulnerable in his unaccustomed attire.
Or at least, it had until he’d actually walked inside the building.
He shouldn’t be here.
“Welcome,” a thin, mostly bald man who had to be knocking ninety said, holding out his frail hand to Cole. Smiling, he introduced himself, then leaned in close so he could hear Cole’s name. “We’re glad you’re here, son. Go find yourself a seat. It’s just about time for services to start.”
Cole entered the auditorium, hesitated in the back as he scanned the room. A young boy, probably close to two, swayed in rhythm to his song at the podium in front. He held a song book and enthusiastically sang until his mother scooped him up, kissed his forehead, and carried him to a seat a few rows back.
Cole’s gaze lingered as he watched her hand over her still-singing boy, still clutching his song book, to a man whom Cole assumed was the boy’s father.
Something inside Cole shifted as he watched the young family.
Something that felt a lot like longing.
That couldn’t be right, though. He’d never wanted that. Not really.
Only, he couldn’t lie to himself, not inside a church, and say that he didn’t feel envy at the wholesome goodness and love he sensed surrounding the three.
Then again, those emotions overwhelming him might have less to do with the young family—and a whole lot to do with the woman sitting in the pew in front of them.
Sophie. Sweet, full-of-Christmas-sparkle Sophie.
Of course, she would sit in the front of the church. In order to join her, he’d have to walk all the way down the aisle. Everyone would see him sit beside her. Ben would see. There would be no slinking into the back row and hoping no one noticed he was there, that no one realized he didn’t belong.
Not that he thought anyone would ask him to leave. But wasn’t he scuffing up something clean and perfect just by being here?
Eyeing the aisle that would take him to where Sophie sat, Cole swallowed. Logically, he knew the distance wasn’t more than forty or so feet, yet it felt miles away. Miles and miles that were laden with obstacles all along the way.
Obstacles? Or emotional traps? Cole gulped back the bile rising in his throat.
He should leave.
He turned, planning to do just that, but when his eyes collided with the older greeter’s, he froze.
“There’s several open seats to choose from, son. You’re welcome to sit anywhere you like.”
Cole’s temples throbbed as he nodded awkwardly, berating himself for being a coward. Because why else would he have tucked tail and planned to run?
He was there to attend church, then help decorate Christmas trees for the elderly at a nursing home of some sort. No big deal. He volunteered all the time via the firehall. This was similar.
Just in the house of God.
Maybe lightning wouldn’t strike him for daring to step inside the sanctuary.
Then again, if it did, that would save him from having to go forward, from being embarrassed that he was there at Sophie’s bidding. Not to mention, the shame that he felt so unworthy.
To be in church. To sit beside someone as good as Sophie.
Sucking in a deep breath, Cole reminded himself that she had invited him, that she wanted him there, that when she looked at him, she saw someone worth inviting, someone she deemed worthy of spending time with, someone she frequently smiled at with so much warmth shining in her pretty hazel eyes.
Her light called to him, warmed him, calmed his need to turn and leave. Just the thought of her smile gave him enough strength to forge forward.