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Pretending she needed to go to the bathroom, Sandra left the sanctuary before the service was over and looked around for her oft invisible friend. She found him in the hallway and watched him duck into the dark library. She followed him inside and flicked on the light. She wondered why he’d chosen the library, but then realized no one ever used the room, and he probably knew that.
“Nice to see you!” She ignored her urge to give him a big hug.
“You as well. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Her stomach tightened. “What?”
“I can’t help you with this investigation.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her was devastated. Part of her didn’t believe him. “Why?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s just say that the powers that be weren’t very happy with my little jaunt out to the theater last winter.”
“The powers that be? You mean God?”
He didn’t agree, and she took this as disagreement. “I can’t say.”
Of course he couldn’t. “Did you get into trouble?” She really hoped this hadn’t been the case. She didn’t want that on her conscience.
“Not exactly. But I don’t want to get in trouble, so I’m sorry, I have to sit this one out. That’s not to say that you can’t pray for help if you get into a pinch. I’m sure God will send someone.”
A lump formed in her throat. Was this really happening?
“Besides, you don’t need me. You do most of the work on your own anyway. I just push old men out of bogs.”
She snickered. “You do a lot more than that, and you know it. But, I think, under the circumstances, I should sit this one out too.”
“That’s probably wise.” He nodded awkwardly. “Okay, well I’ve got to get back to work.”
“You don’t get to rest on Sundays?” She didn’t want him to leave.
“I do, but there are a lot of sports camps going on right now, and every coach thinks his or her sport is the only sport their kids play in the summer.” He took a deep breath. “They keep me busier in the summer than during the actual seasons.”
She was grateful that Peter only played one sport. Summer soccer took up enough of their time without adding another demanding coach to their schedule. She didn’t know what else to say. “All right then. I still hope to see you again?”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” He didn’t sound convincing. He hesitated and then stepped forward and gave her the hug she’d been wanting to give him since she’d seen him under the clock.
And then, before she’d even let go, he vanished, and tears sprang to her eyes. She wiped them away quickly. It was silly to cry over this. He was an angel. He couldn’t be her best friend. They couldn’t just hang out whenever she wanted. He had a supernatural schedule to stick to. She turned the light off and left the library, trying to be grateful that she’d gotten to spend as much time with him as she had.
By the time she got back to the sanctuary, people were spilling out of it. She was glad. She was no longer in the mood for church. She just wanted to be alone.
Peter caught her eye. “We’re staying for the potluck, right?”
Oh no. She’d completely forgotten about it. “Sorry, I forgot there was a potluck, and I didn’t bring anything—”
“Not to worry!” Ethel materialized beside her. “I brought enough for four families! Come on downstairs and relax!”
Sandra didn’t want to go downstairs. Church potlucks were the opposite of relaxing. She wanted to go home and grieve in solitude.
“Please?” Peter begged. At least he wanted to hang out at church now. There was a time when that hadn’t been the case. But lately Peter had grown more popular with the ladies.
Nate came up behind Peter. “Did we bring anything for the potluck?”
Sandra restrained her eye roll. Had he seen her sneak a casserole into the minivan this morning?
“I brought your family’s contribution, so let’s get downstairs before all the good stuff is gone!”
Grudgingly, Sandra followed Ethel down into the basement fellowship hall.
“Why don’t you want to stay?” Nate asked. “Were you planning on starting your investigation immediately?”
She didn’t like his tone. “There isn’t going to be any investigation,” she snapped and then made a beeline for the deviled eggs, wondering why some church potluck enthusiast hadn’t renamed them angeled eggs by now.