“God answers back.”
She shrugged. “I guess. But it’s not always easy to hear him.”
Amen to that. How often over the past few years had he felt alone and adrift despite his prayers?
He assessed the woman again.
Should they stop by her pew, extend the hand of friendship?
His conscience said yes, but his gut said no. There was something about her that raised a red flag. A sense that getting too close could put his heart at risk. And after his experience with Olivia, why take a—
“Dad!” Isabel elbowed him. “I think we should say hello.”
“Not today, honey.” He took her hand and urged her from the pew.
“Why not?”
“Shh.” He pressed his finger to his lips again as they approached the pew the woman occupied.
Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t lift her chin as they passed. A sense of loneliness emanated from her.
For a millisecond, his step faltered ... but he quickly picked up his pace again.
The good Samaritan may have stopped to help a stranger in need, but whatever this woman’s problem, she might not appreciate an unknown man butting in.
Once they entered the vestibule, Isabel towed him toward the fellowship hall, as usual. The donuts and Danish served during the social hour were a highlight of her week.
He let her lead him that direction, away from the church. Staying for a treat should be safe. Unless he was misreading her body language, the blond in the pew wouldn’t seek social interaction after she exited. Whatever burden she was carrying appeared to be a heavy load, and small talk wasn’t likely to be on her agenda.
Nor was it on his.
But for Isabel’s sake, he’d suck it up, smile during the social hour—and try to forget the woman sitting alone in the church who looked like she could use a friend.
She couldn’t hide in the church any longer. The hum of voices in the vestibule was fading, and she’d run out of prayers.
It was time to go back to the hospital and try again to convince Lauren to accept the help she was offering.
If she failed?
There was nothing left to do but book a flight home.
Spirits drooping, Devyn draped her sweater over her shoulders, picked up her purse, and headed toward the vestibule.
A few hangers-on were chatting in small clusters, but for the most part the place had cleared out.
Excellent. She ought to be able to escape fast.
She picked up her pace toward the door, fishing in her purse for her sunglasses and—
“Good morning. Welcome to Grace Christian.”
As a male voice spoke behind her, she stifled a sigh.
So much for sneaking out.
After reaching deep for the smile she used on performance nights when she wasn’t feeling 100 percent, she pivoted.
The minister who’d conducted the service walked toward her, hand extended, his demeanor welcoming.
