Nathan speaks into my ear. “Did he see you fall?”
I shake my head. “I yelled for him to back off, and he went into the 7-Eleven. That’s when I tripped.”
Angel bites her lip. I’d be speechless too if I were her.
I’d yelled at a member of the clergy. I’d broken a toe because I was running away from a pastor. It was a tragedy that could have been averted had I used discernment rather than judgment.
Hopefully, Pastor Paulsen won’t judge me as harshly.
After the service I go up to him to make amends. All the stories he’d just told about building a homeless center are beautiful and also make me feel a bit elitist.
I wish I’d worn Angel’s flat-brimmed hat to church so I could take it off and approach him hat in hand. Instead I’m clinging to my purse. Only this time it’s not because I’m afraid he’ll snatch it from me.
“Pastor Paulsen?” I inch forward in my walking boot.
He turns my direction, gray eyes clear and caring from behind all his scruff. If only I’d looked into his eyes when he’d called out to me on the street.
“You can call me Liam.” He extends a hand to shake. “And what’s your name?”
I grasp his palm for two strong pumps, then return to scrunching my handbag. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m the flight attendant who yelled at you earlier this week.”
His eyes light with recognition. “Oh ... I’m sorry if I scared you. I had simply wanted to hand you an invite to today’s service, but it looks as if you already attend.”
I clear my throat, buying time to answer. It’s not like I can explain that I’m only here because after he scared me, I fell and broke my toe and had to call Nathan to rescue me, which made my boyfriend jealous, inspiringme to set Angel up with Nathan, who invited her to church, and then she in turn dragged me here.
“This is my first time. I’m not in town very often, but a friend invited me.” I turn sideways and tilt my head toward Angel and Nathan, who are in deep conversation with Vincent and Desiree. I’d prepared myself for being the third wheel, but apparently I’m a fifth wheel now.
Liam glances at my friends. “Oh, hey. You know Vincent and Desiree? They’re the ones who invited me on the mission trip that inspired me to serve the homeless in the first place.”
One corner of my mouth turns up at the fitting connection. “They seem to make a difference wherever they go.”
Vincent’s hearty chuckle drifts over. His radiant smile follows. “Claire, you ran from Liam because you thought he’d scratch your retinas?”
I glance apologetically to the pastor. “I hadn’t told him that part yet.”
Liam tilts his head in confusion.
“Long story.”
Vincent motions us to follow him. “How about we all go to lunch? I’m hungry.”
We end up at a barbecue joint, and if my stomach weren’t nauseous from having to confess my judgments to a pastor, my mouth would be watering from the savory aroma of grilling meats and tangy sauces. According to the menu, they serve their brisket in everything from street tacos to mac and cheese.
I go basic by ordering the boneless buttermilk fried chicken, and Nathan makes me smile by ordering the burger with Walla Walla sweet onions. Either he’s remembering my birthday or he’s become a sweet-onion addict.
I’m not sitting next to him this time, but with Angel seated at the end of the high-top table in this warm but sleek establishment, he’s directly across from me. And I’m feeling a little more open to that Scripture he gave me. I mean, I feared harm enough to run from a pastor, but God is even using that for good. My toe may hurt, but I’m not harmed.
“So”—Liam turns to face me from my right-hand side—“what’s this about you being afraid I’d rip your eyeballs out?”
I guess I’d better focus on my purpose for this lunch. I cringe. “I didn’t think you’d rip my eyeballs out. I was just afraid I’d have to get retina surgery like our shuttle driver’s sister.” Not that that’s any better. “She was mugged after working a trip as a flight attendant.”
Liam doesn’t appear offended. He listens with rapt attention and even nods along. “I’m sorry for your friend, but I’ve never had anyone expect me to mug them before. I guess my clothing style has changed now that I’m serving the homeless community, but usually people know I’m a pastor and put up different kinds of defenses.”
I exhale, relieved I didn’t offend him. How would I have treated him if I’d known he was a pastor? I probably would have put on my best behavior, then brushed him off the way I always do with the missionaries who come door to door. “I can imagine. Though I wish I’d known. Then I might not have broken my toe.”
His facial features spread in surprise. Eyebrows up, jaw down. He tilts back to look down at my foot. “I’m the reason you’re in a walking boot?”
I shrug. “Better than retina surgery, right?”
