“The truth never hits below the belt, Owen.” Her words were full of venom and vim that surprised even her. Where was this coming from? She wasn’t the type of person to have an argument in the middle of a store. She looked around, hoping no one was watching the preacher’s wife tell off a man she used to date.
The phraseWhat would Jesus do?ran through her head five times before she was able to get a handle on her snarling thoughts. It was like a large, black guard dog lived inside of her, and the only one it ever wanted to tear to pieces was Owen. She worked to get the animal under control.
Owen kept talking, “I mean, I guess I’m more surprised that you were able to find someone who could handle yourquirks.”
“What quirks?” she demanded.I’m trying, Jesus, I really am. I get credit for that, right?
“You know, the ones that drove me crazy. It was why I started dating—” His phone rang, and he was cut off. After answering, he pointed to the phone and mouthed,I have to take this, before walking away.
She glared after him. “Great to see you again, jerk.” She flipped around and stormed to the bath section of the store and stared at the towels.
Whatquirks? She didn’t consider herself a peculiar person. In fact, she was one of the steadiest people she knew. She didn’t run out and party on the weekends. When she gave her word, she followed through. And if there was a cat struck in a tree, she’d climb up after it. Which she had actually done on one of her and Owen’s first dates.
Oooh. Thooooose quirks.
When she’d hopped down with the frightened feline in her arms, Owen called her his Superwoman. But … maybe it was a peculiar thing to do on a date. She hadn’t even thought about it at the time. Someone needed help, even if that someone had fur and a tail, and she’d jumped at the chance to take care of her neighbor. She couldn’t leave the poor thing up there.
Her body sagged. Had she really driven Owen into the arms of another woman?
Not that she absolved him of his crime of cheating; that one was on Jesus to take care of. But was she really that bad to be around, that hard to commit to?
And if so, what chance did she have at keeping Seth happy for the rest of their lives? Without a physical relationship …
She tried to focus on the towel options. They had any stripe of the rainbow to choose from. Several sherbet colors caught her eye, as did a Hawaiian print. They had a few of those left, with huge flowers on them in beautiful reds, pinks, and sunset orange. She reached for one, her hand stopping just before making contact with the fluffy fabric. Owen would have told her to pick something neutral that would last longer because brighter colors went out of style faster. His voice mocked her.
She reached for the drab, tan bath mat and matching wash clothes. Playing it safe was better. Seth had joked about using pink, but she wouldn’t make him do that. She would have, before she’d run into Owen, but there were parts of her that she could curb in order to make this marriage last. Seth was a good man, and she would respect him.
They were just starting out, but she seriously questioned her ability to make this marriage work. First, she’d embarrassed Seth in front of Mr. White by joking at the funeral. Then, she’d gone and picked those chipped plates he didn’t want—he’d told her they were too broken, and she’d bought them anyway.
The tan towels were the best choice.
Chapter Nine
Evie
Evie’s first Sunday was what she’d expected: lots of curious looks, questions, and introductions. She’d managed to not embarrass herself or Seth by keeping her mouth shut and listening a lot. Which was good. The congregation was made up of over-65-year-olds who were happy to chat about their grandchildren, their ailments, and their opinions on the state of the world.
When she woke up on the second Sunday, she had a pit in her stomach. The expectations, the curious eyes—all of it crashed on her the moment her alarm went off that morning. She dressed and walked with Seth to the church to open it up.
Evie grabbed the stress ball off Seth’s church office desk and began tossing it back and forth between her hands. He stood, reading through his notes, closing his eyes every now and again to memorize something.
“You realize that we work harder on Sunday than any other day of the week.”
He glanced up at her.
“It’s ironic because it’s supposed to be the day of rest.”
He chuckled. “A day of rest from the cares of the world.” He dipped his head, back to his notes.
She nodded, thinking about the cares she held in her heart. They centered on the man standing in front of her and didn’t drop from her shoulders—no matter what day of the week the calendar showed. “Do you like the plates we bought?”
“They’re fine.” He waved one hand.
She stared at the top of his head. “I mean, if it had been up to you, which plates would you have picked?”
He lifted a shoulder.
She pressed her lips together, decidedly unsatisfied with the way the conversation went. All she needed was a little direction. With Owen, it had been so easy. He told her exactly what he thought about everything.
