They stood at the same time and walked down a wood-lined hallway with green carpet. They shook hands with the mediator and sat down. Evie stayed silent for most of the meeting, lost in her own thoughts, mutteringhmmsat the appropriate times. She couldn’t help but feel like she was previewing her future—and it was wrong.
All of it was so very wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Seth
There were a few things Seth wanted out of his office. So he took advantage of not sleeping and made his way over to the church. Even in the dark, the building held a sense of beauty about it. The rock finish and stained-glass windows reminded him that Jesus was the only foundation and the light of the world.
He unlocked the door and headed down the hall. He flipped the lights on in his office and was blinded by their glare. He’d have to take his guitar, a few books. Wasn’t there a box around here somewhere?
“Hey there, Pastor.”
Seth jumped and flipped around, gasping for breath, only to find Mr. Green standing in the doorway. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
Mr. Green lifted a shoulder and sauntered in with the confidence of a man who could kick your butt. “I was out driving to settle my mind and saw your light on.”
Seth found the box in the corner and began packing. “How’s the toe?” he asked, inquiring after the gout.
“Better every day.” He leaned against the desk. “You’re not normal.”
Seth paused a moment in his packing, trying to determine if he was being insulted or what. “Thanks.” He went with the “not offended” option because he didn’t have any fight left in him. Evie hadn’t returned any of his calls, and he was as low as he’d ever been in life.
“I’ve never had a preacher sing during a sermon.” Apparently, Mr. Green wasn’t done. “Or throw horseshoes with me.” He shook his head. “It’s not normal. But I like it. I like that you come to a meeting with your hands dirty and that you’re willing to put in the work to make this place shine. Makes me think you care.”
“I do.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “My grandfather helped build this church. He hammered nails and laid the stones for the finish.”
Ahh. “He did excellent work. It’s held up really well.”
Mr. Green wrapped his knuckles on the desk. “I voted to keep ya. Most of us did. I expect Mr. White is figuring out how to eat crow tonight and tell you that you’re sticking around.”
Seth set down the books he’d been holding and stared at Mr. Green. “Thank you. I certainly appreciate it. But I’m afraid Evie thinks this is all her fault, when it clearly is mine, and she’s, uh …” He couldn’t bring himself to say the wordsleft me;they sounded so final. “Not around.”
Mr. Green clamped his mouth shut, and a muscle on his jaw twitched. “Then what in tarnation are you doing here?”
“Packing …”
Mr. Green grabbed Seth’s shirt and shoved him toward the door. “I thought you had a head on those shoulders. If I’d-a known … You get your sorry butt out there and bring her back.” He stopped muscling Seth toward the door and smiled the one and only true smile Seth had ever seen on his face. “She makes the best chocolate cream pie I’ve ever had. I won’t let you lose her for any of us.” He shoved him once more, this time letting go of his shirt.
Seth stumbled several steps before regaining his footing. “I’m not sure where she is.”
“You have to have some idea.” Mr. Green glared.
Seth scrambled. The only thought that came was of her friend she’d had lunch with. But he had no idea where she lived. “I’ll do my best.” He all but sprinted for the door, not needing any more of Mr. Green’s form of motivation.
He typed Maisie’s name into a search engine, and an address came up.
“Let’s hope this works.” He got in his car and snaked around the potholes to get out of the parking lot. Once on the road, he checked the time. It was after midnight.
He glanced upward and started praying. The only way he was going to get Evie back was if the Lord was on his side. “Dear God, You brought her into my life. Please help me to keep her.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Evie
It was official: Evie hated yarn. She threw off the afghan and wrapped up in the sheet. Another sleepless night on the sofa, and she wasn’t any closer to finding peace than she had when she’d left. Someone really needed to write a book on how to leave your husband who you’d fake married and fallen in love with—a manual would be epic right now.
