Capturing the Minister's Heart
Автор
KD Fleming
Прочтений
18,3K
Глав
11
Chapter 1
Abby Blackmon shot Pastor Jeremy Walker the evil eye as she snatched the finance committee’s proposal off the protective glass covering of his desk. She stuffed it into her briefcase. His office usually evoked a sense of comfort. The cherry-stained furnishings complemented the lush gold textured carpet, creating a sense of timeless assurance. Hopefulness.
But today, Jeremy’s unexplained recalcitrance filled her with an irritation no peaceful ambiance could quell. She regarded the thicker theological tomes lining his bookshelves with an eye toward their physical, rather than spiritual, effectiveness. As in, the best one to use to knock some sense into his stubborn head.
“We need to get the community behind this project if we’re going to raise the money to build the recreation center. The indoor center you want built. Remember? The outreach ministry for disadvantaged kids? A place their parents could send them during the hot, humid summer and know they were safe. Ring any bells for you?”
He opened his mouth as if to answer her. But nothing came out. He wouldn’t even meet her gaze. Instead, he angled his leather chair to her left and looked out the window. A serious air befitting the responsibilities of his calling cloaked him like a heavy trench coat. He was tall, athletic, with an expressive face anchored by a strong jaw, best captured in profile. His sandy-brown hair always looked as if he’d just run his hands through it, which he did now instead of explaining himself. He swiveled his chair and faced her. His eyes, usually more gold than green, and glinting with humor to balance the mien of seriousness, were a flat shade of brown. Their somberness didn’t offer her any hope of changing his mind.
Still, she tried. “Jeremy, giving interviews and wooing the media is how my father’s campaign manager raises the most funds for his re-election. They share their vision with the people who have a vested interest in reaching the same goal, and then they gain their support.”
His mouth opened. “I—” He fell silent again.
“You have to give me a better reason for rejecting a proposal the finance committee spent weeks working on. ‘No interviews’ isn’t good enough, and you know it.”
Their glares waged a silent war. Despite her determination, she blinked first. That loosened his rigid posture and he leaned back in his chair, his jaw clamped shut.
“Fine,” she said. “You can explain yourself to the committee at the end of the month. But know this—I’ve dealt with difficult people before. And despite them, the project was finished on time.”
The normally agreeable—until today—minister repositioned his rimless glasses. Probably so his view would be focused when he looked down his nose at her. At Grace Community Church, his word was final in the hierarchy of decision making. Never mind that he was being nonsensical with his “no cameras and no interviews” edict. She glanced at her watch. Great. Katherine was probably already at the restaurant, wondering where she was.
Abby stood, straightening a crease in her pencil skirt, stalling until she had her temper under control. “My parents asked me to invite you to dinner at their house this Saturday. Daddy’s due back in Washington next week.”
Her gaze sought his when he didn’t respond. “I won’t be there, if that’s the reason for your hesitation.”
Jeremy ran a hand through his hair again and let out a soul-deep sigh. “Please, tell your parents I’m happy to have dinner with them.” He watched her for a moment before clearing his throat. “I know you and the committee worked hard on this proposal, but I won’t change my mind about the interviews. I am sorry, Abby. You’ll have to find another way.”
She nodded. “I’ll let them know to expect you.” At the door, she placed her hand on the knob before glancing back at him. “And I don’t believe you are. Sorry, that is.” She walked out, leaving the door gaping open like the invisible chasm separating them.
Disappointment dogged her on the drive to the restaurant. She’d stopped by Jeremy’s office with the idea of giving him a brief rundown of the proposal, then leaving it with him for further review. He would, of course, love it, then call her later in the week about scheduling the interviews. So much for great ideas or thinking they were on the same page about anything.
A few minutes later, Abby slid into the booth across from her friend Katherine Harper. She snapped her linen napkin open with a loud pop, wincing when Katherine glanced up from her menu. “Sorry.”
Del Sol boasted cozy privacy, where the booths scattered around the expansive room invited long and lingering conversations. They were using an extended lunch hour to put the final touches on the plans for Katherine’s upcoming wedding, in which Abby was her maid of honor and Jeremy was officiating. That one thought reignited her anger.
As soon as the waiter had taken their orders, Katherine leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”
Abby’s gaze flew to hers. “Nothing.”
Katherine reached over and rescued the saucer of butter pats from the salad fork Abby was wielding like a pitchfork. Each golden decorative floral design had been transformed into a thin, round blob riddled with enough holes that it could pass for Swiss cheese.
“What’s the matter?” Katherine used her patient, logical voice on her.
Oh, how Abby hated the sound of obvious reason. Katherine wouldn’t talk about anything else, even her perfect wedding to Mr. Dreamy, if she didn’t pour all this vexation out and let Katherine try to fix it. Which she couldn’t. No one could but the stubborn minister whose jaw had turned to granite right after the word no had passed his lips.
“Fine.” Once she began tattling on Jeremy, the words wouldn’t stop. Then, finally she said, “He refused to participate in any interviews involving cameras. No television, no newspaper reports.”
“Our Jeremy?”
“He might be yours. But he is definitely not mine. Not after this morning.” She snagged a piece of bread before Katherine could move that out of reach, too.
“That is so odd.” Katherine scrunched her brow and took a sip from her water glass. “He has always been a clown. But now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him pose for a picture. In fact, he finds an excuse to leave the room just before we take group photos with the church outreach volunteers.”
“You should have seen him. He acted so angry with me. It was as if I’d asked him to keep the car running while I robbed the bank instead of being interviewed for a local news feature.” Abby sank farther into her seat. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here. That was the plan.”
Katherine slid the butter dish toward her. An act of pity Abby wouldn’t acknowledge.
“And the way he looked down his nose at me. Oh, I wanted to just shake him until he saw how ridiculous he was being.” The fresh-baked bread on her plate hadn’t fared any better than the pats of butter. “You don’t think it’s a phobia, do you?”
“More like camera shyness. I mean, he has no trouble with public speaking. I don’t see where having his picture in the paper would be nearly as scary as standing in front of five hundred church members each Sunday and reminding them that God sees everything they do or say.”
Abby leaned forward. “I checked Google on my phone before I came inside. But all I found were articles relating to archaic religious or spiritual superstitions.”
“What? How can a minister have a spiritual issue with a camera?”
She laughed, and some of her frustration faded. “The person believes that when the camera captures their image, it’s also capturing their soul.”
They both leaned back as the waiter placed their salads in front of them.
After saying grace, Katherine stabbed a forkful of grilled chicken and greens. “My vote’s still on camera-shyness.”
“Are you using me to practice up on how to inject political jargon into conversations like any good politician’s wife-to-be?”
Katherine stuck her tongue out at her, and the topic of conversation switched from Jeremy to all things wedding. Abby noted the appointment time in her planner for their final dress fittings. Nick was picking up the invitations as soon as the printer said they were done.
“Oh, we need a sample of the fabric from your dresses to give to the florist so he can match it to the ribbons in the bouquets. Please don’t let me forget that when we’re there.”
Abby glanced up, her pen poised over the planner page, and smiled. “Look at you. Ready to write an article for a bridal magazine on the importance of matching colors.”
“Pfft. That isn’t what I’m doing and you know it. If you and Gina don’t go with me, the florist will have talked me into having you both walk down the aisle carrying a crystal vase full of roses that resemble a rainbow.”
The sad thing was it was the truth. Kat had confessed to her that Nick had promised this florist exclusive rights to their wedding in exchange for coordinating the floral part of his wooing campaign to win her heart.
Thoughts of how happy the two of them were going to be soon had Abby cramming Jeremy and his prickliness into the “to be dealt with later” part of her brain. She immersed herself in helping her best friend plan the wedding of her dreams to her Prince Charming.
After they’d gone through both their lists, coordinating times and things still needing attention, the waiter cleared their dishes from the table. Katherine insisted on picking up the check in thanks for Abby helping keep her on target. Abby hugged her goodbye in the parking lot before heading to her office.
Once there, she pulled the wrinkled pages of her plan to make Jeremy’s dream come true from her briefcase and threw them in the trash. All she’d lost with her impromptu meeting this morning was an easy way to raise money for the rec center—and any hope she had that Jeremy saw her as something more than a member of the finance committee and the church he pastored. It was better she knew his position on both, now, before she invested any more effort into a doomed venture.
She had always admired him and the heavy burden he carried in his heart, not just for his congregation, but all of Pemberly, Georgia. With the numerous programs they had worked on together, she’d thought she knew him. But the man who’d shot down her ideas before she could get out of the starting gate today wasn’t her Jeremy, willing to do whatever it took to meet the needs of his people. This morning’s Jeremy had been a cold and distant stranger.
Her Jeremy—oh, goodness, she had not just thought of him that way. They were friends. They respected each other’s views. And, yes, she had hoped that sometime in the near future their relationship would grow into something deeper. At least she had until today’s face-off.
Oh, she was pathetic. What kind of person had warm, fuzzy flutters in her heart when she thought about her pastor? She was sick. Sick, sick, sick. God, help me. You’re the only one who can.
To distract her from her crazy thoughts and find a way around Jeremy’s edicts, she scrolled through her contacts list, on the hunt for someone to help raise the money to begin construction. Because, no matter how many ideas Jeremy rejected, she was the head of the finance committee tasked with gaining the necessary funding to see this project completed. She always achieved her goals. And she would this time, too—with or without Pastor Jeremy Walker’s nod of approval and help.
Halfway down the screen she spotted Wendy Albright’s name. Oh, yes. Wednesday Wendy hosted midweek features involving the community for Channel Six News. Perfect. Abby’s father hadn’t recommended she attend the University of Georgia just because it was his alma mater. She’d met and forged friendships with people who were now influential members of society throughout the state and the country. Including Wendy.
Ten minutes later, she was explaining her “need” to her fellow sorority Faithful Sister.
“Abby, darlin’, if we Faithfuls can’t help each other out, what is this world coming to?”
She smiled. Wendy was just as Southern as ever. Some things never changed. “Exactly. I’m trying to raise money for a church-based recreation center that would also benefit the community. Do you know of any eager philanthropists willing to have their name on a bronze plaque over the top of the double doors when we dedicate the building to the city of Pemberly?”
“What’s your angle in wanting it built?”
Abby sat up straight. “The community needs this for the teens. The church has an outdoor court for basketball, but with all the rain and heat during summer, it’s hard to get the kids out of the AC long enough to make a difference in their lives.”
“Hmm. Basketball, you said? I know a former Hawks player with a soft heart for community projects that benefit kids. He’s only been out of the game a few years, so his name would still be a big draw. Give me your number, and I’ll ask him to call you. You aren’t married, are you?”
“What? Why does that matter?”
“He’s a bit of a lady’s man, but he’s harmless. If I don’t use Mrs. anywhere in your name, he’ll call you back faster. I’ve interviewed him a few times. He’s really a nice guy. But he likes the time spent with the people asking him for a donation to include something besides bringing his checkbook and them offering him a pen. Be charming and talk about more than the project when you take him out to dinner.”
Abby laughed and gave Wendy her contact information. “I think I remember how to play the Southern belle. Give him my number with the promise of a great dinner and a concert thrown in for good measure if he calls me back this week.”
“Will do. But seriously, Abby Blackmon, attorney-at-law and daughter of a senator, really doesn’t have anyone special?”
The image of solemn hazel eyes and tousled hair flashed in her mind, and she forced the words past the squeezing pressure around her heart. “No, there’s no one special for me.”
“That’s just wrong.” Then, after an abbreviated silence, “I hate to run, but I’m due on set for a sound check in five. Call me after construction begins. I’ll see what kind of feature coverage I can arrange for your pet project and the basketball star. Who knows, maybe you’ll get more than a rec center out of the introduction.”
“I really appreciate your help, but a sponsor for the rec center is all I’m after right now.” After hanging up, she twisted her chair around until she could see the fountain in the middle of the park across the street. She let out a relieved sigh and smiled with satisfaction. If things worked out, she might have found the perfect “face” to promote the rec center project and an interesting dinner companion. Not that she was looking.
* * *
Late Friday afternoon, Jeremy came into the fellowship hall to help set up for the weekly meal for the homeless. He’d switched schedules with three different members of the congregation during the rest of the week to avoid running into Abby. No one was willing to trade their Friday night out for kitchen duty, though. There was no escaping her or their shift on dish washing detail after the meal.
The kitchen in the fellowship hall was roomy. But the sinks were side by side. Earlier, while she’d worked the serving line, Abby had said “thank you” with a sweet smile and warmth in her silver-blue eyes each time he’d brought her a refill for the mashed potatoes or green beans. She hadn’t shown a single sign of irritation over his harsh rejection of her plans. But now all the food was gone, and so was the buffer the other volunteers provided. It was just the two of them and a pile of dirty dishes.
No one liked kitchen cleanup. Except Abby. She viewed the task as part of the job instead of torture. She had a soft spot for the less fortunate in their town. She delighted in meeting and making welcome any newcomers to the dinner crowd. The regulars looked for her and her warm smile as they made their way down the serving line, and she never disappointed. The care and attention she showed each person drew their spine a little straighter and raised their opinion of the meal from charity to dinner with a friend.
Jeremy didn’t know if he was in that category any longer. She had been furious when she’d left his office Monday. And they hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since. Both situations were his fault. That truth wouldn’t make the next hour any less uncomfortable.
He ran the hot water, creating high peaks of frothy suds before dumping all the silverware into the left sink. Abby had yet to speak to him on a personal level. No asking how his week had been or commenting on the size of tonight’s crowd. If he wanted to dispel the silence hovering between them, he’d have to start the conversation. He grabbed a moment and really looked at her, taking in her golden, sun-kissed complexion, heart-shaped face made more beautiful by the glint of mischief in her expressive eyes and those full lips. Her physical beauty was only a reflection of her spiritual loveliness.
He swallowed hard. “I think there were more newcomers tonight than we’ve had in a while.”
She was humming one of the choir standards as she wiped the stainless counter where the serving pans had rested earlier. She paused at his words, glancing in his direction. “There were thirteen new faces.”
Okay, he deserved to have to work at making their exchange into an actual conversation. “Abby, I’m sorry I upset you at the meeting. It’s just—”
She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t say I understand your reasons for not doing all you can to reach the youth in our city. But that’s for you to deal with. I’ve found an even better way to raise the money. And the church should qualify for a loan for the amount necessary to finish construction if we use the property as collateral.”
What? They were talking about a huge amount of money. “It only took you four days to come up with a better way to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars?”
“Uh-huh. Can you pass me that towel so I can dry these spoons?”
He handed her the towel but held on when she pulled. “What have you done? I know my refusal upset you. But I’m not doing any interviews. Not even for you.”
The gentle squeeze she gave his shoulder was the equivalent of a pat on the head for a dog that had mastered the trick of rolling over on command. He gritted his teeth. “How are you raising the money, Abby?”
“Why all this sudden interest in my methods? You were quick to let me know the easiest avenue to achieving this goal was off-limits. So I did as you asked and took you out of the equation.”
“I don’t want to fight with you about this.”
“We’re not fighting. I was just letting you know I took your advice and found another way to move ahead.” She turned away and started humming again.
He stared at the back of her head, the tether of their friendship loosening in the silence. He sighed. He deserved her dismissal. But he didn’t have to like it. Rules that had held him captive for more than a decade prevented him from doing what she needed on a project he knew in his heart was what God wanted for their city. He should be glad she was able to work around the obstacles he’d thrown in her way.
She didn’t act vindictive or even satisfied, as if she was getting back at him for shutting down her original plan. She looked—happy, without him in the picture. He steeled himself against reacting to the sharp jolt that lanced through him at her assurance that everything was progressing just fine without him.
They had always gotten along, making a great team when addressing the financial needs of the church. Abby was creative and expansive when it came to problem-solving or fund-raising. But he couldn’t allow his face to appear in any form of media, no matter how logical and well thought out her proposal had been. And he couldn’t explain why. It was against the Witness Security Program’s and Marshal Dekker’s rules.
“Are you going to make me wait until the next finance committee meeting?”
She spread the drying towel she had been using across the handle of the oven, then reached for a new one before facing him. “I spoke to a college friend who put me in touch with Shaun Fowler. He’s big into community projects for kids. Especially anything to do with basketball. Anyway, I met him for dinner last night, and we talked—”
“Wait right there.” He threw his scouring pad into the sink, sending a plume of suds high into the air. “Shaun Fowler, the former Atlanta Hawks player? You went out with him?”
He should have interpreted the lift of her perfectly shaped eyebrow and the firm set of her full lips as a warning. Even without her arms folded tightly in front of her. It didn’t matter. His vision was passing through a haze of green. He stepped closer until there was less than an arm’s length between them. “Fund-raising should not include your having to schmooze people into donating for a cause. Especially playboy pro athletes.”
She looked up at him, the top of her head almost level with his chin and her back ramrod straight. “Schmooze a playboy? I had dinner with a handsome man who happens to like giving money to worthy causes. Since I chair the committee tasked with raising the funds to build the recreation center you—” she poked him in the chest with a fingernail as sharp as her words “—asked us to take on, I am doing my job. And I won’t apologize for having a pleasant evening in the company of a man who doesn’t have any odd hang-ups.”
She stalked away to fill the slotted drawer with the dried silverware. Jeremy’s chest was heaving like a stovepipe. He wanted nothing more than to make her face him and explain exactly how pleasant her evening had been. But he had no right. No claim. Dekker and the rules made sure of that. Never mind how angry he’d made her at their meeting. But the minute he severed the link holding Abby anywhere near him, some former NBA superstar was there, ready to offer her everything he never could because that hadn’t been God’s plan for his life.
And that hurt.
The realization tore a jagged path from his heart to his soul. He would never be completely separated from her because of their shared friendships with Katherine Harper and Nick Delaney. Suddenly the aridness of a WITSEC relocation spot in Tempe sounded appealing.
God knew what was best for him and for Abby. He had just never let himself consider the possibility that what was best for them wouldn’t involve the same path. But maybe it didn’t. Lord, I’m sorry for my selfishness. Please, forgive me and help me to mend this rift I’ve created between Abby and me. She’s my friend, and if Your will doesn’t allow for more than that, help me to accept it and cherish the relationship You have blessed us with as friends.
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted that way.”
She paused with a long-tined fork in her hand. “No, you shouldn’t have. What I do is my business. I’m respecting your edict that I keep the media away from you, but I need a face to associate with this project for people to identify with it. Shaun brings notoriety and good press, not to mention over half the money we need. He’s funded similar projects like this all over the country. And he’s a nice man. He and I have to work together on promoting the center, so it makes it easier for me that he’s so likable.”
Abby’s gaze shifted before meeting his. “He wants to stop by and watch you work with the teens one Tuesday evening.”
Over his dead body. The guy was not only luring Abby away from him with his charitable works and likability, now the man wanted to get in the middle of the ministry that let him use the skills he had been forced to keep hidden from the world. Great. The guy would probably challenge him to a game of one-on-one in front of the teens. He clenched his fists at his sides. If he got smeared, what credibility would his teaching have in the future?
“Since when did one dinner garner such attention from a former NBA All-Star? Are you sure Shaun Fowler isn’t just looking to add a senator’s daughter to his collection of adoring female fans?”
His barb brought Abby front and center. She was in his face with her cheeks flushed, strands of honey-gold hair escaping its clip, ready to give him the set down of his life. And she’d never looked more beautiful.
“Get. Over. Yourself. You can’t have it both ways. Whatever your fear is that keeps you from doing what’s needed to get this center built is your problem. I found a way to move forward despite you. And since your favorite sport is basketball, I went with that theme. And who better to promote our cause than a former NBA player who favors charities that sponsor projects like this? He’ll help me draw in the sponsorship we need to make your dream happen.”
He stepped away from her and leaned against the sink. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. How many times had he said those words to her this week, knowing he couldn’t change anything even if he wanted to?
“There are things I wish I knew how to explain, but I don’t. Can’t. And I know my attitude resembles sour grapes.” The rules might keep him from talking about witness protection, but nothing prevented him from letting her see the path he’d planned for himself before Dekker’s late-night visit took all of that away.
He drew a deep breath and bared as much of his soul as he could, with no motive other than hoping she’d understand his mixed feelings a little better. “When I was in high school, all I dreamed about was playing for Kentucky and winning a national championship. I was going to be a first-round draft pick in the NBA.” He resisted the resentment trying to climb inside him again at the thought of all he had lost. He’d surrendered that battle to God before attending seminary and won. So why the resentful rumblings now?
Abby’s gaze was warm and encouraging.
“But that wasn’t what God wanted me to do. And I’m fine with that now. I like being a minister. I think I make a difference in people’s lives, helping open their hearts and minds to what God really wants for them.”
“You do.” Her words a breathy assurance, while her gaze strayed from his. “God used you to open my eyes to how much more I should be doing to help others. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”
His breath seized in his chest. Was there an underlying meaning in her words? Was she telling him he was just her minister? What about their friendship? He had no choice but to trust God here. He was so far out in a sea of emotion he couldn’t see land.
“You have a very giving heart. I think God was already at work within you before our paths crossed. Basketball is how I get the older boys’ attention. They think they know everything, and the only way to break through that ‘king of the world’ mind-set is to outdo them at something. With basketball, when I win, they can always say it’s because I’ve been playing longer or something like that, but it still earns me a little of their respect. And that allows me to plant a seed. God waters it and lets it work deeper into their souls through life’s twists and turns, until one day, it finds root and they stand tall, grounded in Him.”
* * *
Abby stared at Jeremy, listening to the words tumbling from his mouth. He was always so earnest, so passionate in his sermons. There was no doubt about his belief in what he was saying. But just now, with his breath coming in uneven measures, he had opened up and shared a piece of his heart with her that she believed few people had ever seen. The honesty made her want to take him in her arms and tell him how good and honorable he was.
But the type of relationship they had didn’t give her the freedom to express that level of admiration. And it might never. Oh, they’d still attend many of the same public functions. They might even go to some of them together if they were low-key enough. Her parents would always invite him to lunch with them on the Sundays they were in town. But she and Jeremy had never been close enough to trade secrets that involved their hearts. Now she wasn’t sure they ever could.
They were casual friends. Somehow, he always made her laugh. But they’d never talked about their dreams or a future, whether separate or together. She already missed the friend who couldn’t be more.
She offered her hand. “Truce?”
He reached out. But instead of a handshake, he wove his fingers through hers and kissed her knuckles before letting go. “Truce.”
Her heart jumped. Frustrating and confusing man!
She went home more flustered than she’d been before the evening started. He kept her off kilter. Probably not on purpose, but that didn’t matter. His actions contradicted themselves. One minute he talked to her as if she was the ideal woman—his Eve. The next, he was cranky and suspicious, acting as if he’d caught her two-timing him. She’d never even one-timed him.
She shook off her conflicting thoughts. There’d be time to worry later about the jiggly feeling stirred by the thought of Jeremy jealous over her. Convinced she could find the solution on her own, she struggled with her uncertainty for another hour before giving in and doing what she should have done before any of this happened.
She prayed.
She prayed while she showered. While starting a second load of laundry as the towels dried in the dryer. Even while she painted her toenails Romantic Red. Then she curled up with a cup of tea and poured her heart out to the only one who knew the cause of the hurt and confusion welling up inside her. Who could offer her a solution. Who could bring her peace. Perfect peace. She went to bed after surrendering her plans to God. And she slept. Because the Lord carried her burdens for her through the night as He promised He always would.
