She picked up a rock he’d placed on the nightstand, rolling it in her palm. “Like a little boy,” she mused.
Her thoughts turned to the few things he’d said about his past. About the absent parents and rough upbringing. She stared down at the smooth rock. Somewhere inside of Seth was a little boy who still felt alone, lonely, and unworthy.
She closed her eyes and offered a prayer. “God. Seth needs love—the Jesus kind that fills the holes in a cracked and damaged soul, not the kind that makes me want to bury my fingers in his hair and … well. I don’t know if I have the strength or the courage to love like that when I feel like this. …” Her words trailed off as she thought of the damage Owen had done to her by cheating, the crushing weight of betrayal she still carried. “Help me,” she whispered. “So I can help him.”
She stood there for a moment, waiting for an answer, a path. Nothing became clear. But she did feel the peace that came from knowing God had heard her words. She set the rock down and patted it once.
Feeling stronger, and maybe even a might bit braver, she headed to the kitchen to make some rolls. Seth would come back, and she wanted him to feel welcome. Her mom said that two things made people feel at home: a clean space and the smell of fresh bread.
They’d eventually have to face the kiss, but she really didn’t want it to become a one-time thing, so she opted not to confront him with it when he walked through the door.
A kiss like that? That kiss was the kind that could carry her throughout eternity, and she wanted to share them again and again. Maybe, in time, they could …
She scolded herself. What she wanted wasn’t important. She needed to stay focused on what the Lord would want for Seth.
Healing. Jesus love. That was where her mind needed to stay focused.
And if he kissed her again?
She bit her lip. That was a temptation she wouldn’t be able to withstand, so the Lord had better not put it in front of her. That was all she had to say about that.
Chapter Fifteen
Seth
The church summer picnic was well underway and a roaring success, if the number of wheelchairs on the lawn was any indication. Seth had mowed and edged and fertilized and watered until he’d put St. Patrick’s Day to shame with all this green.
The flower beds were awash in color—thanks to Evie’s dedication. She’d even planted rosebushes in the barest spot of the yard. They bloomed with unabashed brazenness in red and pink. He’d asked her about yellow while they were standing in the local greenhouse, and she’d wrinkled her nose in the cutest way. “Roses should be red or pink. Maybe white if they have to be.”
He’d thought it was funny, the way she had an opinion about the color of things. Not funny like he wanted to laugh at her, but funny like watching a baby goat hop over a log: so adorable you wanted to scoop her up and hug her and laugh all at the same time, just because they made you feel happy.
His face flushed. He’d thought a lot about hugging Evie—kissing her—lately. It’d been over a week since he’d given in to his base desire and acted without thinking. On his long drive around town, he’d sternly lectured himself on keeping his thoughts on the straight and narrow.
When he’d gotten home, he’d found the house smelling of fresh-baked bread and butter. Evie had been all smiles and chatter about the people she’d visited that afternoon. Her continued openness had been as much of a relief as it was awkward. She’d tried to make him feel comfortable, and that was slightly awkward. But he’d answered with the same level of cheeriness, and they’d managed to get over the bump in the road to a space where they could pretend it hadn’t happened.
Not that he could forget …
“Preacher!” called Mr. Green as he held up a horseshoe. “Come on over here and help me beat these braggarts.”
Seth grinned. They had several yard games set up, including a volleyball net where Evie played center on a team made up of a small group of younger girls. The Henderson family had invited their neighbors and friends for their daughters to hang out with while they were here. No one could deny the energy that having young people around added to the picnic. He made a mental note to point it out to Mr. White. The man was stalwart about keeping the ministry focused on those over the age of seventy.
Evie had gravitated to the girls, and they soon asked her to round out their team. They played against their moms and were serious about taking home bragging rights.
Seth strode over to join the old men. They’d grouped together just as quickly as their wives had circled the quilt frames set up in the shade of the oak tree. That was another one of Evie’s ideas. Since so many of the ladies tied quilts on their own, she thought they might like to get together. He’d never seen so many eyes sparkle behind bifocals before. Perhaps he needed to open up the church for a sewing circle.
Mr. Green shook Seth’s hand and rubbed his shoulder. “All right, you just send up a couple prayers while I get warmed up here, and we’ll get down to the business of beating these bozos.”
“No way.” Mr. Lucas sliced his hand through the air. “You don’t get to call on the Almighty. You gotta face us as a man.”
“I’m not afraid to take you two on,” said Seth. “But I can’t say that the Lord won’t be on my side.”
A chorus of oohs met his throwing down of the proverbial gauntlet.
He glanced over to see if Evie had noticed. She was already looking at him, a small smile on her lips. He whipped his attention back to the group.
“We’re red.” Mr. Green shoved two horseshoes into his hand. “Are you an over-hander or under?”
“Over,” he replied, stealing another look at Evie. She had her eye on the ball and was tracking it to set a bump pass.
