The room was quiet. “No thanks, Rebecca,” Millie said from the front desk, her voice gruff. “Got your mail for you, though.”
Rebecca took the stack, Millie’s familiar blue sticky note right on top. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
“Thanks,” she said drily, tucked the mail into her purse and headed out the door. She left the blue sticky note crumpled on her floorboard.
Joe Mama’s was packed when she arrived. Apparently, the whole town had precisely the same idea as she, though with the heat, why anyone would actually want a hot beverage was beyond her. The power of caffeine addiction, apparently.
But Joe Mama’s was cool and comfortable, the aroma of coffee beans thick and soothing, and Rebecca felt her shoulders begin to relax. The lights were dim and cozy, making the coffee shop like a little midday oasis neatly tucked away from the hustle and bustle. Someone’s perfume smelled really, really good, almost edible. She scanned the menu, realized she was subconsciously looking around to see if Erik Wennerman was there. Of course he wasn’t, he didn’t even work in Dahlia, but the thought had come nonetheless, unbidden. She pushed thoughts of his tousled hair—thicker than Peter’s, even—and irreverent grin aside.
“Rebecca!” Someone was standing and waving from the back of the room, and she peered, took a step forward to see through the dimness. It was Josh Jamison, and he sat around a table with a handful of other people, all varying ages, a friendly smile on his face.
Her stomach gave a little tumble. Must be hungrier than I think I am, she told herself, and lifted her hand in a small half-wave.
“Hi, Josh,” she said from the line, realized she was smiling. The others at the table—a slightly older black-haired woman with a vivid streak of white in her hair; a couple of men, one in a polo shirt, the other in overalls; an African-American woman in a long striped sundress and chunky earrings; two young people who looked to be college kids, one with a massive Afro—all looked over with interest. The woman with the black and white streaks smiled warmly.
“How’ve you been?” Josh asked, then without waiting for a response, “Want to join us? I’ve got extras.”
He held up a big floppy book and she suddenly realized what they were doing: Bible study. The diverse gathering now made sense.
“No, thanks,” she said automatically, smiled to soften the words as she motioned to the line before her. “Just grabbing a quick bite—have to get back to work.”
“Hey, that’s okay,” Josh said, eyes still friendly. “Listen, we usually gather Wednesdays at lunch. All of us work, too, so it’s just a quick little lunch group. If ever you want to join us, come on by. We’re doing Luke, and it’s really easy to jump in.”
Rebecca nodded and smiled as though it could happen, though she knew it wouldn’t. “Thanks!” She waved again at the little group, who smiled and turned back to their meeting.
She ordered an iced latte and a tomato-mozzarella Panini, ate quickly at a side table near the door.
She still couldn’t believe Josh was a widower. Somehow, the thought of her superdad childhood friend and his little son in a house without a mom seemed horribly, unbelievably wrong. JJ came to mind then, and then Devon, and she found herself wondering how in the world good people like them got such a bad deal out of life when all the jerks seemed to have it made—and how in the world God could let that be so.
If she turned her head just right, she could see the Bible group across the room. The black-haired lady seemed to be the leader, but the others would jump in here and there. At one point, one of the college kids said something, and she could hear Josh’s loud unmistakable laugh—his childhood laugh, a mix between a cackle and hoot, which had always gotten her rolling.
For a moment, she wished she’d joined them after all.
But what in the world would I do at a Bible study? She’d probably join the group and they’d be pressuring her to go to worship on Sunday and put money in the church offering plate so some pastor could buy a fancy robe or put in new stained-glass windows or something.
She shuddered, fiddled with her iced coffee straw. All of a sudden her stomach felt like she’d eaten a bowling ball. She stood, snagged the empty paper bag and, without glancing back at the Bible group, left.
In the car, she pulled out her cell phone, scrolled through the names until she found Sarah in the text messages list.
“Heard about any job openings yet? I’ve got to get out of this town,” she jabbed at the letters.
But then she stopped herself, deleted the text, and set the phone down.
She sat a moment in the sun, letting the warmth of the day wash over her.
Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to get out of town—at least not yet. She’d made a commitment to Granny. And now there was Devon, and the new series, and she had to admit it was pretty neat to reconnect with her old pal Josh and his son, JJ. She had some unfinished business to handle before she left Dahlia for wherever life would take her next, and she certainly didn’t want to leave before she’d turned this paper around and left on a high note.
And with that, she shifted into reverse and headed back to the office.
CHAPTER 18
Devon
Marla flagged Devon down as he was leaving the school the next afternoon, a small white envelope in her hands.
“Give this to my sweetheart for me, would you, honey? Something for the collection plate from Mr. Sam. You’re still going by the church to help Rev with setup?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Devon took it, and she came around the counter to give him a hug. She smelled like vanilla and spice, and he closed his eyes, let himself relax.
