will you be home?” Her mom looked concerned. Dinnertime was a big deal in the Petersen household.
“I’m not sure. I’ll call if I’m late.” Hope grabbed her purse, wondering for the hundredth time if it wasn’t past time she moved out.
She’d traded part of her life because her folks had lost part of theirs. The part that had looked forward to Sara taking over the farm. And the part that had yearned for grandchildren from Sara and Ryan.
Glancing back at the kitchen table, her heart twisted. Her parents had aged in the past three years. They were still young, but to Hope they seemed tired. The joy in working the farm was lost.
How could she leave them?
“Bye, honey.” Her mom waved.
Her father grunted something that sounded like good-bye.
Hope didn’t like disappointing them, but she wasn’t leaving her church with the preschool up in the air. Not when they needed her vote. She wouldn’t give up because Sinclair made her folks uncomfortable. He made her uncomfortable, too, but for reasons she’d rather not examine.
When Hope pulled into the church parking lot, she immediately spotted the red Camaro. It was pretty hard to miss the car’s shiny wax job. She shook her head. He’d always loved that car.
She walked toward the church but stopped when she heard the sound of music drifting out the open windows of the sanctuary. Someone played the piano, and the notes were reverent and haunting. Beautiful.
Sinclair.
Hope’s eyes closed and her insides tightened as she stood outside and listened. What went through his mind while he played? Did he ever think of her?
Opening her eyes, she pushed those kinds of wishes aside. Why would he think of her anyway? Just because she thought of him constantly didn’t mean he’d return the favor. Taking a deep breath, Hope opened the door and went inside.
* * *
Sinclair looked up when he heard the door open. He expected their worship leaders, Diane and Bud, to arrive soon to practice and didn’t want to be in their way. Instead, he saw Hope standing in the doorway, and his pulse took an erratic skip.
Sunshine poured in behind her, making her look ethereal, like something he might have dreamed. Like something that might slip away if he tried to touch.
She stepped closer, and he noticed a dainty dragonfly clip worn in her hair, pulling some of her bangs over to the side. It only reinforced the fairylike image.
“Are you ready for your first sermon?” Her smile was sweet and conciliatory.
Were his nerves easy to see? “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“Your outline looked good. ‘God Changes Everything’ is a catchy title.” She smoothed the front of her skirt.
“Thanks.” He slid down the long piano bench and patted the wood. “Wanna sit down?”
Her eyes widened, and she hesitated. Maybe she was a little nervous, too. But then she perched on the end of the bench, and her slim fingers caressed the piano keys.
“Do you play?” he asked.
“Not very well.”
“Play something.”
She let out a shaky laugh and launched into the simple beginner’s piece called “Chopsticks.”
After listening to her for a few moments, he joined her on the lower end of the keys. For a solid five minutes they played together, filling the sanctuary with carefree music. The connection through the simple song made him forget the distance that had grown between them.
Watching Hope concentrate so hard on touching the right keys delighted him. She’d always taken every task seriously. When she caught her bottom lip between white teeth, he stared at her soft beauty. Why had he never before noticed how pretty she was, especially up close? He forgot that he’d placed her off-limits and hit the wrong note.
She laughed and turned toward him. “Where did you learn to play the piano? I don’t remember you playing before.”
“My mother wanted us kids to play Grandma Marsh’s old piano in the living room, but I was the only one who kept at my lessons until high school. I took more lessons in college from a music major I was trying to impress.”
Hope smiled again. “Did you?”
“Impress her?”
She nodded.
“No. She went after a football player. But I realized how easy it was to connect with God through music. Different maybe, but playing helps me focus.”
“I should let you get back to it.” Hope started to get up.
“Stay.” He touched the soft skin of her arm. She calmed his nerves but rattled his senses.
She didn’t move; she stared at his fingers still resting on her forearm.
He let his hand drop and cleared his throat. “This morning I’m going to announce a building committee meeting held after this Wednesday’s service. We need to move forward on the project.”
Her gaze flashed to his. “Have you decided what to build?”
“That’ll be the main topic of discussion. We’ll need to get a rough idea of how a youth center compares financially to the preschool. I’ll need your input.”
“What about opening it up to the congregation?”
“Once we have a decision from the board, we’ll do that.”
He knew how much Hope wanted that preschool, yet she’d look for acceptance from the whole church. She wasn’t trying to ramrod her way like a certain board member with a nephew. He appreciated that. He appreciated too much about his office manager.
The worship team tromped into the sanctuary, their laughter loud and distracting. Sinclair cast them a glance and waved.
Hope got up to leave. “I better make sure Shannon has everything she needs for children’s church.”
“You’ll be back for the service?” He wanted her opinion on his message. If he were truthful, he’d admit that he wanted her assurance. He didn’t want to let his congregation down on his first Sunday service. He didn’t want to let Hope down, either.
She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
After Walt and his wife, Carol, rang the church’s bell, Hope took her seat in the fourth-row pew as always. She ignored the creeping disappointment that her parents really weren’t coming. She’d hoped they’d finally show.
It proved difficult to concentrate during the short worship service. She’d close her eyes, only to open them and find herself staring at the back of Sinclair’s head. He wore a nice suit for his first Sunday message, but no tie. He preferred T-shirts underneath his button-downs. After working with him for a week, Sinclair seemed different—but had he really changed?
She’d done her best to keep her distance. Wednesday night, she should have remained downstairs with the children’s program instead of making arrangements to hear Sinclair’s first message. Ever since she’d heard him talk about Haiti, she’d felt drawn to him in a way that irritated her. She wasn’t ready to forgive him. She shouldn’t want anything to do with him, but after all these years, Sinclair still fascinated her. Now maybe even more.
When greeting time rolled around after the kids had been dismissed for children’s church, Hope hit the aisles. She chatted with people she’d known most of her life. She bounced off questions about her parents’ whereabouts with vague answers. But some of them looked like they’d guessed the reason, even if they didn’t say a word. They remembered Sara’s accident. They remembered that both Sinclair and Ryan Marsh had been there that day.
“Good morning, Hope.”