She still smiled. She still answered the many questions tossed her way about how they’d met and what a whirlwind romance they must have had, and wasn’t she lucky to find a man who could preach like that?
His cheek lifted in a half grin. If they only knew that he was the lucky one.
Evie was magnificent. Every minute he spent with her was touched with gold. It didn’t matter if they were doing yard work in preparation for the upcoming summer picnic or washing dishes or changing lightbulbs in the Sunday School room; she made every moment a gift.
Marrying her was the best decision he’d ever made. Even better than learning to play the guitar.
He glanced over at the worn and dinged instrument. The battered guitar had been all he could afford at the time, but he’d longed for it like a leper longed to be healed. Once it was in his hands, he’d felt whole again. Playing came easy to him when his only audience was the Lord. The moment he stepped in front of people, his fingers were all thumbs.
Evie’s suggestion that he play for the parishioners rang in his head like a church bell. If God had given him musical talent, he’d gladly give it back in singing His praises and bringing people to the cross to lay down their sins and their sorrows and rest in Lord Jesus. But his clear lack of ability to play for anyone indicated that Jesus did not want his guitar in the chapel. As he continued to stare, a melody floated into his consciousness, and his hands itched to pluck the strings.
He turned his back on the instrument and focused on the report he was supposed to write up for the church board. They’d noted that there’d been other visitors besides Mr. Wellsprings last Sunday. The Harpers had brought friends to hear him preach Jesus. Seth was glad. The more people in the building, the more hearers of the word and disciples of Jesus.
His thoughts circled back to his wife. As much training as he had in shepherding a flock, he had very little training in reading women. In many ways, Evie was her regular self. She’d handled the impromptu funeral for Mr. Clearance Wellsprings, the man who had keeled over during his sermon, with amazing grace. The man didn’t have much family, just a great-granddaughter who hardly knew him, so the service was small and quiet and fast.
“Preacher!” Mr. White called as he walked down the hallway.
Seth jumped to his feet. “Back here,” he called through the open office door.
Mr. White’s white socks flashed in contrast to his dark shoes as his pant legs whipped to and fro. “You’re not going to believe this. You won’t believe it.” He smacked his leg. His bald head was shiny with sweat and pink with exertion. “It’s so wonderful, I can hardly believe it myself.” He stopped talking and just grinned.
Seth smiled. “What is it?”
Mr. White seemed to realize that he hadn’t actually shared the big news, and he shook his head at himself. “That Mr. Wellsprings who keeled over during your recital.”
Seth mentally cringed. Recital? Had he been too showy? Too prideful during his sermon? He worked hard to preach the Lord and not for hims—
“What he’d lacked in family, he made up for in money—if there was such a way to do so. A large donation was made in his name to the church.” Mr. White puffed up his chest as if he were the one who had written the check. “This is good news. I can’t wait to tell the board, but I had to tell you first.”
“That’s wonderful.” Seth ran through the laundry list of items the building needed fixing, but nothing seemed as important as the youth program he and Evie bantered about now and then. She wanted it badly and spoke often about how her youth group had been a strength to her during those formative years.
He agreed. If it hadn’t been for Thursday nights in a gathering hall much like the one in this very building, he would have taken a different path in life. “Mr. White, we need to have an honest discussion about bringing more families into the ministry. This money could go a long way in providing activities and programs to benefit the entire community.”
“Well.” Mr. White hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “We’ll see about that. You just got here, and I’m not sure how people feel about you spending money all willy-nilly.”
Willy … what?“I assure you, the funds would be responsibly—”
“Budget had always been a matter of board discussion. Our last pastor didn’t want anything to do with finances. He let us handle everything.”
Seth did his best to tamp down his frustration. He wasn’t a spendthrift, nor was he a thief. A man could be youngandhonest—age wasn’t an indication of character or integrity. “Well, I’d like a say. This is where I spend my time. I’m invested in the buildingandthe people.”
Mr. White frowned. “I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel natural.”
Seth forced a smile. “Change rarely does. I’ll see you at the monthly board meeting. It’s going to be a joyous occasion. I’ll bring some cookies to celebrate.”
Mr. White regarded him cautiously. “Cookies would be good.”
“Great.” Seth patted his shoulder. The cuckoo clock in his office started on the twelve dings, marking lunchtime. “If you’ll excuse me, my wife is expecting me for lunch.”
At that, Mr. White brightened. “She’s a good one. Don’t you let her get away.”
“I’m not planning in it.” Seth shut and locked his office and then ushered Mr. White out the main doors. He waved goodbye as Mr. White headed for the parking lot, and Seth went to the house.
The kitchen was unusually quiet. He walked quietly, feeling that strange downheartedness that had followed Evie around all week. She was in her room, sitting on the edge of her bed with her scriptures in her lap. Her face was calm, her eyes on the page.
He backed out slowly, not wanting to interrupt her Jesus Time, as she called it. He made his way to the kitchen and pulled out a can of chicken. Ten minutes later, he had chicken salad sandwiches and chips on two chipped plates. Just thinking about her looking at all the whole parts of the plate and not caring about the chips made him feel blessed.
He’d just opened the fridge to get her a diet soda when he heard her footsteps in the hall.
