“But—” Evie protested.
Terri held up her palm. “I’ll help him find a lawyer.” She smirked.
“Are you not upset?” Evie asked. “Angry at him? Hurt?”
Terri sighed. “He may be an idiot and possibly a thief, but he’s my idiot.” She pointed at Seth. “I’ll be seein’ you next week, Preacher. I need some Jesus for my heart.”
With that, she pushed open the door, tugged her skirt in place, and marched into the police station.
Seth shook his head.
“What?” asked Evie.
He opened his mouth and closed it. The words seemed big and hard for him to find. “I’m amazed by her ability to forgive—to love someone who hurt her.”
Evie stared out the front window, her eyes unfocused.
“Aren’t you?” he pressed.
She took a breath. “I think women have a great capacity to love. What a man would consider a sacrifice, a woman would think nothing of.”
“Have you ever loved like that?” he asked.
“Once,” she said quietly.
“Did you get your heart back?”
She turned to take him in. He didn’t shrink under her scrutiny. His desire to know seemed more curious than anything.
She wished she had an answer. Had she ever gotten her heart back from Owen? At one time, she’d given it to the Lord. Then she’d strayed from that path. “That’s a good question.”
“I’m a pastor. We take classes on how to ask good questions.”
She laughed, and her spirit lightened. She might have given her heart away and had it splattered with disappointment and unfaithfulness, but there was a part of it that was attached to Seth. Maybe it was the part encircled with his vows.
The connection felt stronger than her heartbeat. It felt like so many things all at once. Acceptance. Hope. Faith. Trust. Admiration. Dedication. If you wrapped all those things up in a word, it spelled love.
She grabbed the door handle for strength. Heaven help her, she was falling in love with her husband—the one man on the planet who was right beside her yet out of reach.
Chapter Thirteen
Seth
Seth yanked on the mower’s ancient steering wheel, and the wheels groaned as the blade created the perfect lines in the grass. His sense of satisfaction was disproportionate to the overall importance of lawn care in the grand scheme of existence. But that didn’t make riding a lawn mower any less fun. Evie would have claimed the pleasure, but she’d been swindled into crochet lessons with Mrs. Farmly.
Not that she’d complained. She’d even baked lemon bars to take with her.
The yard was finally coming together. Good thing too, since he’d announced the summer picnic last Sunday. The room had fairly buzzed with excitement. The pastor before him hadn’t been interested in organizing church functions, and it had been at least five years since they’d had a picnic. It was a shame; the grounds were perfect for gathering.
One of the men had offered to bring and set up a game of horseshoes. Suddenly, the older men had the gleam of competition in their eyes. The ladies insisted on bringing their signature dishes. He was grateful for that, because it would take some of the pressure off him and Evie to prepare food.
Evie pulled into the driveway, and he pointed the mower in her direction, cutting the engine as she climbed out of the car. She wore the white eyeletted sundress she’d worn to their wedding and had her hair down, flowing like angel wings behind her, as she walked over, carrying a takeout cup. “Here, I thought you might like a strawberry lemonade.”
“You read my taste buds.” He warmed. She’d spent the day caring for others yet still made time to do something nice for him. He should be a better husband. There must be a way he could serve her that would show that he cared. However, he couldn’t show her exactly how much he cared. That could be dangerous, because he had strong feelings for this woman.
Really strong feelings. Like, L-word feelings.
She grinned and tucked some hair behind her ear that had escaped. He climbed off the mower and walked with her to the porch, where they sat down side by side on the top step, their legs brushing.
