fine. Where do you want me?”
For an instant the words naked and in my bed came to mind. Heat flashed through her in what felt like an entire body blush. She needed some control.
“Near the window. I want to see the light on your face. That way I can capture the cascade of sparkles from your halo.”
Joe laughed and relaxed. He half sat on a stool near the window, while she perched at the far side of it on the window seat, her sketchbook open. She had drawn plenty of models in her life drawing classes, but this was different. What she was trying to do was different, and Tabby had no idea at all how, or if, it would work.
As she watched, he closed his eyes for a moment and began in the clear tenor she remembered so well, and she found it was as enthralling as it had been the first time she heard it. Only now, watching him as well as hearing him, she felt warmed inside. He glowed, almost as if he did indeed have a halo. Somehow, Tabby knew that would make him laugh if she told him, but it was true. He was light and warmth, and he fascinated her.
She sketched quickly, catching his face from different angles, and when she finished, she simply listened to the breathtaking pull of his voice. She knew the song he sang now, a song that never failed to touch her heart—”Thankful.”
* * * *
Joe finished the last note and focused on Tabby. She sat with her sketchbook closed and her face angled toward the window. “Tabby?” he questioned softly. “What is it?”
“That was beautiful, Joseph,” she whispered. “You have no idea. And… And I can’t tell you.” She blinked as if trying to clear her head.
With a sudden burst of energy, she stood up, took the dark painting from the easel, set it facing the wall with other canvases that had been similarly stacked so all that was visible were the backs of them, and replaced it with a fresh canvas. Joe watched, knowing that for the moment at least she had forgotten him. He kept quiet, curious as to what he would see, feeling somewhat like an eavesdropper. She began what looked like another sketch, only this time using a brush and thinned paint to lay out the basic composition.
He looked at his watch, vaguely remembering Tabby mentioning dinner with Evan and Jenny Richardson, but she was so intent on what she did he hated to interrupt her. As she finished outlining her composition and sat back for a moment, he finally spoke, “Tabby, it’s a little after five. Aren’t you going to the Richardson’s house?”
She started. He smiled at a concentration so intense she could forget he was there. If he were a more egotistical man, he might be offended, but strangely enough he understood her absorption. He experienced it in his singing and often in writing a sermon, and he was flattered she allowed him to share hers. She stared at him, and the intensity of those golden eyes changed to panic as she glanced down at the paint smearing her hands.
“I—I have to get ready. I don’t even know where I’m going or how long it will take to get there.”
“It’s okay. It’s a couple of streets over. No more than a five or ten minute walk. I can show you the way.”
“Would you really?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
He waited for her on the veranda, rising slowly to his feet as she came back through the door a quarter hour later. She wore a long, flowing skirt that left little more than her ankles bare, but made of a material light enough it seemed to caress her body each time she moved. The top was the same way, covering her from wrists to neck. He wondered that someone as free-spirited as she seemed to be was also almost excessively modest. The most revealing thing he’d seen her wear were bicycling shorts, and even then those were capris, falling to around mid-calf.
“Are you ready?” he asked with a smile he hoped would allay some of her nervousness, and she nodded. They walked companionably next to each other, people greeting him with a wave that Joe happily returned. Too soon, he stopped in front of Evan and Jenny’s huge Victorian home. “There you are. Think you can find your way back home?”
The response he felt coming died on her lips as a young voice piped, “Pastor Joe! Miss MacVie!”
Tyler dashed over to them, his long hair flying around his head. Behind him came Mountain Meadow’s Police Chief and his wife, carrying their daughter, Noelle.
Tyler skidded to a halt next to Tabby, and flushed. “I—I want you to meet Jake and my sister, Holly, Miss MacVie.” His dark brown eyes swiveled to Joe. “Are you eating at Evan and Jenny’s too?”
Joe shook his head. “No. I walked over to show Miss MacVie the way.”
Holly and Jake reached them, and Jake spoke up, “Well, I’m sure you’d be more than welcome, Joe.”
He saw the uneasy shift in Tabby’s expression. Better not to press things too far, since she was already spooked by his profession. He smiled. “Thanks, but not this time. I still have a few kinks to work out of tomorrow’s sermon. I’ll see y’all tomorrow.” He turned to Tabby and murmured, “There, I’ve delivered you safe and sound and didn’t even try to convert you on the way.”
The uneasiness fled from her expression, and she laughed, “Thank you, Joseph.”
* * * *
With mixed feelings, Tabby watched Joseph leave. While she might be reluctant to call a preacher friend, the fact remained he was the closest thing to a friend she had so far in this town. She turned her head in time to see Jake open Evan and Jenny’s front door as if he belonged there. Tabby envied that kind of easy familiarity.
“Evan? Jenny?” Holly called as they all entered the front hall. To one side, a double set of sliding doors parted. “Oh, there you are.” Holly continued. “We’re here, and we’ve brought Tabby with us. Come on, step up. Don’t be shy.”
Tabby’s heart thudded to the point she feared it would beat right out of her throat. For a moment, all she saw was Evan’s towering form. He didn’t look entirely happy, and his expression appeared guarded. From behind him stepped a petite, blond-haired woman, her belly swollen with advanced pregnancy. However, that wasn’t what grabbed Tabby’s attention.
She stared into eyes as golden as her own. Looking at her elder sister felt as though she’d taken a step back in time. Only her mother had never looked as confident as Jenny Richardson did. Tabby took a half step forward, uncertain what she was about to do or say, but then she halted.
Jenny’s smile of welcome had faded as Tabby stepped from Jake’s shadow. The color left Jenny’s face. Tabby was sure it must have fled hers too. Despite her pregnancy, Jenny was still quick on her feet. She turned to Evan in such a way that he actually took a step back.
“You should have told me,” she snapped at her husband. “You should have asked.” She turned a hostile gaze on Tabby.
From the corner of her eye, Tabby was aware of Holly and Jake hurrying Tyler down the hall to the kitchen. Tabby wished Joseph had stayed. Somehow, she had a feeling he would bring calm to this situation because it always seemed to surround him.
“Who are you?” Jenny hissed after the door swung shut behind Tyler and his family. Tabby raised her chin and saw Jenny do the same thing.
With a deep breath, she began, “Tabitha MacVie, from Asheville, North Carolina. My mother…”
Jenny’s eyes shot sparks. “I don’t want to hear anything about your mother,” she interrupted. She looked Tabby up and down. “How old are you?”
Tabby shook, and even Evan took a half-step back from the anger and pain in Jenny’s voice and expression.
“Twenty-three,” Tabby whispered.
“Why don’t we go into the living room?” Evan suggested, no doubt hoping to move this confrontation away from the hallway that led straight back to the kitchen. He attempted to take Jenny’s elbow, only to be shaken off furiously.
Jenny’s