Chapter Six

Willow pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, parked, and turned off the ignition. Her husband had bought her this very expensive car two years ago, back when he was seeing Tiffany but still felt guilty about it. The insurance payments took a big hunk of her paycheck. Her lawyer should have done a better job on that. Also, the backseat was tiny and the gas mileage was terrible, but it looked great and went very fast on the highway.

As she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, she knew she was delaying entering the apartment, postponing the discussion with the boys. What was she going to do with them? What should she do about them? They were young boys who’d lost their father, friends, and home to come to a small town hundreds of miles away from Chicago with a completely different culture and climate.

Knowing they’d want to be active, she’d enrolled them in a day camp until school started, but not enough had signed up so the last session was canceled. By that time, it was too late to enroll them in the summer soccer league. She could hardly take them to work, but she thought they’d be safe playing in the park, walking to the library, and wandering over to the box store on the edge of town. After all, they were eight and ten. Never had she thought they’d trespass and break a window.

She shouldn’t have allowed the captain’s revelation to bother her so much. For heaven’s sake, she’d run out on a patient during the intake sessions. How incompetent did that appear? But she’d felt overwhelmed by life, and breaking down in tears in front of the captain wouldn’t seem professional to him or to anyone. Certainly not to her.

Exactly what she needed: to have Leo and Nick running wild and to have a patient think she was a terrible, uncaring mother. That would hardly justify his having confidence in any area.

Would it have mattered if the patient hadn’t been Captain Peterson? As much as she tried to ignore it, the question wiggled into her brain. Yes, he was handsome and charismatic. His eyes smoldered. Wasn’t that the word they used in romance novels? Didn’t the hero always have smoldering eyes that burned into the soul of the heroine? But this wasn’t a book and he wasn’t the hero and she shouldn’t care about the opinion of a patient more than that of anyone else.

Nor was this about her. This was about Leo and Nick and how she could guide them without making them more unhappy about their situation.

But as hard as she attempted to ignore this—she certainly was deep in denial this afternoon—she had to admit she liked how the captain had looked at her, as if he found her an attractive woman, maybe even sexy. Her self-esteem had suffered when she first found out about Tiffany, but the captain seemed to…

“Mom?”

She glanced up to see Nick standing at her window.

“Is there something wrong?” He frowned a little as if wondering why she was still in the car in the parking lot. “Are you sick?”

“No.” She smiled at him. Plenty of time to talk about that broken slider once she was inside with both boys. “Just thinking. But I do want to talk to you and Leo.”

“Oh.”

That one syllable, spoken in the high, shaky voice Nick used when he was worried or frightened, tipped her off. He and his brother had broken the slider and hadn’t told her. Not that she’d doubt the captain, who had no reason to make the story up, but she’d wanted to ask the boys first. Now she knew.

“Let’s go inside.” She opened the door and handed the sack of hamburgers to him. Probably shouldn’t buy their favorite fast food when she was going to have to punish them, but after a long day of work, she couldn’t face cooking. “Where’s your brother?”

Nick gulped as he took the bag. “Watching television,” he said, his voice still wavering.

When she unlocked the apartment and Nick shoved the door open, he said, “Mom wants to talk to us.”

If she hadn’t already known what had happened, the sight of Leo leaping to his feet and glancing at his brother in silent communication would have tipped her off. She closed the door, walked toward the window, and opened the blinds. That completed, she turned back to face the boys. “Boys, does either of you want to tell me about Captain Peterson?”

“Mom, he’s the coolest man,” Nick said. “He has tattoos—I mean tats—and he’s a marine.”

“He was wounded,” Leo added, his voice filled with admiration.

She could tell by his face that her eldest had just realized a wounded marine might end up at physical therapy. “Have you met him?” he asked.

She nodded.

Nick and Leo exchanged glances again.

“Guess we’d better tell you what happened,” Leo said.

“Yes, and after you do that, explain why you didn’t tell me about it and what you’re going to do to repay the captain.” She’d have to be tough because she didn’t want anyone—not only the captain—to think she let the boys get away with anything.

But making the boys compensate him for the broken door meant she’d have to see him again. She didn’t want to, not outside the secure walls of the hospital, the safe haven of the physical therapy department where she could hide behind her professional demeanor. He and his scrutiny made her feel attractive, like a woman again, as her husband had done for years. But Grant taught her not to trust men, and she’d learned that lesson well. With two sons, she didn’t dare make another mistake.

Adam hurried across the parking lot toward the church, carrying the plate of warm muffins Ouida had handed him on his way out of the parsonage.

Surely there could be no better place for a bachelor than living next to a friendly neighbor who baked. He whistled as he entered the church. When he spotted the frown on Maggie’s face, the whistling stopped.

“You have a guest.” She continued to type the bulletin, but her tone and lack of eye contact suggested he might not be pleased with the identity of the visitor.

Guessing who it was, Adam attempted to recapture his exhilaration. It eluded him. He hadn’t seen Miss Birdie’s old van outside, but she could have walked. No destination in town was too far to walk.

“Who is it?” he whispered.

Maggie kept her eye on the screen and didn’t answer. Surely setting the margin couldn’t demand so much attention.

Squaring his shoulders, Adam pushed the door open and walked into the minister’s study. He knew he should call this his study, but he worried about acting too possessive, as if claiming this as his might make the extraordinary place disappear. Magical and un-Christian thinking, he knew.

Yes, Miss Birdie stood next to the desk. She hadn’t heard him enter and rubbed her shoulder as if… Well, for a moment, she looked vulnerable. Like a real person, like a church member whose minister should comfort her instead of wanting to run and hide every time he saw her.

When she heard him come in, the pillar dropped her hands and turned toward him. Her lips curved, an expression he couldn’t read but made him suspicious. She looked almost friendly.

He had to quit judging Miss Birdie. She was a member of the congregation, a child of God who deserved to be loved and accepted by her minister. Adam smiled back. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, first you need to do something about these books all over the place.”

“I agree, but…” He realized as he began to defend the mess that the books weren’t the real reason for her visit. Oddly, instead of appearing confident, she looked almost uncertain about her purpose. Adam guessed the hesitation would disappear as soon as the reason for her presence emerged. Miss Birdie wasn’t one to hem and haw.

The minister gestured toward the two chairs he’d cleared after her first visit and walked to the desk. Piles of books and tottering stacks of paper littered the surface. As if he’d always meant to do exactly that, Adam opened the large bottom drawer, swept the mess inside, and closed it. “Won’t you have a seat?”

“No, I need to get some things done before the lunch crowd comes in.” She paused. “Preacher, I’d like you to be my guest for breakfast in the morning.”

Now Adam felt incredibly foolish. He’d misjudged Miss Birdie again and should look out for that tendency. He needed to be more accepting. “How nice of you. Thank you. Eight o’clock at the diner?”

“No, no, no. A little earlier. Maybe seven fifteen? Before the crowd gets there.”

Why so early? Had she said before the crowd? Although Adam hadn’t eaten there yet, he thought most people who had to get to work would arrive about seven. And if she wanted to discuss something important, why would the restaurant be a better place to converse than the church office?

There he went again, trying to explain and understand her invitation instead of accepting it gratefully. “Seven fifteen. Thank you. I’ll be there.”

She walked to the door before turning and looking a little uncertain. “Oh, and wear a tie, please. Don’t suppose you could get a haircut?”

Odd.

“I… aah… want to show my minister off to all my customers.”

“I’ll try.” But before he could complete those two syllables, she’d disappeared, again without a good-bye.

That night, as Adam walked home after a tough game of three-on-three with Hector and his friends, two questions repeated through his brain. First, considering the aches and pains he suffered from the blocks and shoves, should he play ball with kids ten years younger? Without resolving that concern, because he knew he’d never give the game up as long as he could still dribble, he pondered Miss Birdie’s odd invitation to breakfast. Attempting to understand the twists and turns of the pillar’s brain baffled Adam, and yet hadn’t he promised himself not to always believe she had ulterior motives? Hadn’t he decided to trust Miss Birdie? He gave up trying to figure her out as he approached the front steps of the parsonage.

As Adam contemplated himself in the mirror at six forty-five Thursday morning, he knew he had to get a haircut. Most of the first check had paid for repairs on the car. He’d set the rest aside for food because he’d run out of the goodies people had brought those first weeks. Surely he could scrape together enough to get a haircut soon. At least he was wearing a tie, he thought as he straightened it.

Adam left the house at 7:05, plenty of time to walk to the diner. When he entered the restaurant, he looked around. All the booths lining the walls plus the five or six tables in the center of the room and every stool at the counter were occupied, mostly by men drinking coffee and talking. He spotted a few members of the congregation and was headed in the direction of Howard’s booth when Miss Birdie intercepted him. Her plastic nametag said only BIRDIE. If he wanted to escape her wrath, he figured he should never call her that.

“Good morning, Pastor Adam. We’re busy this morning so you’re going to have to share a booth.”

Odd. He thought she wanted to share breakfast with him, to talk to him about something personal, a problem or concern, but how did she expect to do that here? The place was packed. People held up cups for refills all over the room. She obviously had to work.

And this was before the crowd?

Adam pointed toward the booth where the elders sat. “I’ll join them.”

“No, no, I have a place set and ready for you.” She grabbed his arm with her free hand and gestured toward the corner with the coffeepot she held in the other.

Adam had made it a rule never to oppose a woman armed with a hot carafe. However, when the two got within six feet of the booth, he realized a young woman sat there, her back to them as she read the paper. He stopped.

“Someone’s already there,” he said although he knew full well why someone was already there. The matchmaker had roped him in, set him up. He’d been dumb enough to believe her sincerity, accept her invitation, and walk into her trap.

When would he learn?

With a quick glance at the woman in the booth—who, fortunately, hadn’t noticed that he and his captor stood only a few feet away—then another peek at the door, Adam calculated his chance of escape. Could he run fast enough to get out of the diner before the woman in the booth could lift her eyes from the opinion page of the Austin American-Statesman?

Foolishly he hadn’t figured Miss Birdie in his calculations. The pillar motioned toward Adam with that pot of hot coffee. Once she ascertained he wouldn’t attempt to run, she said to the young woman, “We’re full today. Do you mind sharing the booth?”

Miss Birdie continued to wave Adam forward and, unwilling and suspicious but not wanting to insult the young woman, he followed. Besides, he couldn’t run without causing a scene and infuriating Miss Birdie. Neither seemed wise, and he was hungry.

“Hello.” Adam nodded as the woman glanced up.

A lovely smile, he noted, dimples showing on a round, sweet face. Her dark hair was pulled back with one of those plastic styling things he’d seen advertised on television and wondered both how they worked and if anyone bought and used them. At least this woman had.

“Hi.” She gestured at the red upholstered seat across from her. “Please join me.”

Adam slid in before glancing at Miss Birdie, whose smile stretched bright and broad and triumphant across her face. What next? A victory dance?

No, she simply turned a cup over and filled it. “Your breakfast will be right out. I ordered for you, Preacher,” she said. “Pastor, this is Reverend Patillo, the minister at the Presbyterian church. Why don’t you two get acquainted? As ministers, I imagine you have a lot in common.” She dashed off, leaving them alone and looking as proud as if she’d posted a MISSION COMPLETE banner.

Not that Adam felt particularly alone with fifty to sixty people crowded into the café. The eyes of every one of them studied the two in the booth surreptitiously. Was the entire town in on Miss Birdie’s matchmaking scheme?

“I’m Mattie. Have we been set up?” She chuckled, a warm, friendly sound but hardly the siren’s call of immediate chemistry. “You must be Adam Jordan from the Christian Church. I’d heard a single minister was coming to town and figured it was only a matter of time before someone tried to get us together. How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks.”

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened earlier.” Mattie took another sip of her coffee. “I want to…”

“Sorry to interrupt, but here’re your breakfasts.” On her right arm, Miss Birdie carried a platter holding two large plates and two small ones. “Toast and half a grapefruit for Reverend Patillo.” She placed them in front of Mattie. “The rest for Pastor Adam. Hope you enjoy this, Preacher.”

With those words, she set down a platter in front of Adam with a stack of pancakes topped with whipped cream and strawberries and syrup and another with four pieces of bacon, a small steak, three sausage links, a couple of biscuits, an enormous mound of scrambled eggs, grits with oceans of melted butter on top, and hash browns. It took up nearly the entire table. That finished, she folded her hands in front of her and smiled, her glance shifting from minister to minister. “Isn’t she just about the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

He responded, “I can’t eat all this.”

“Course you can. Wouldn’t hurt you to put a little meat on those bones. Take the leftovers home for breakfast tomorrow.”

Adam studied the amazing amount of food. Except for the grits, the food would last for a week. Even though he’d lived in Kentucky for years, he’d never learned to like grits. They must be a taste acquired immediately after weaning. To him, grits tasted like ground Styrofoam. It wasn’t that he disliked them; he just saw no reason to expend the effort to swallow something so tasteless.

“Now, you two enjoy. Take your time.” She patted his arm, friendlier than she’d ever behaved. “No reason for you to hurry. We have plenty of room.” With that, she rushed to another booth.

Adam glanced at the packed room and the line out the door. Oh, sure, plenty of room. Within minutes he discovered that even if he were interested in Mattie, it wasn’t conducive to romance to have half the town watching while the other half wished they’d stop eating and leave, giving up a booth big enough for four or five of them.

“You don’t think she’s too obvious, do you?” He attacked the pancakes.

“She’s sweet.” Mattie picked up a packet of jelly, tore it open, and spread the contents on her toast.

“No, she’s not. She’s controlling and has to be right.”

“And she thinks every minister should be married, even women pastors. I’ve heard she’s not too certain women should be in ministry unless we work with children, but if we are she wants us married.” She grinned. “Right?”

He smiled back. “But only because she cares.”

“You two are getting along well.” Miss Birdie appeared with her ubiquitous coffeepot and topped off their nearly full cups.

Adam noticed she looked very pleased, probably sure her plan to marry off two ministers was going well.

The pillar wandered off but kept her eyes turned toward them. He should tell her that if she wanted to play matchmaker, she shouldn’t hover or gawk. Instead, he took a bite of sausage. After a few bites, he studied the plates again. “Mattie, can I interest you in a piece of bacon? Sausage? Steak?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” After taking a sip of coffee, she asked, “What are you preaching on Sunday?”

“I’m planning to use the lectionary text from the gospel. What about you?”

“Me, too. How are you going to approach it?”

For a few minutes the ministers discussed the meaning of the verses and their structure and historical background as well as examples they could use in a sermon. As they exchanged opinions, Adam noted and ignored Miss Birdie’s fluttering around the table. He hadn’t thought the pillar could do fluttering. She filled their cups, removed plates, even dropped ice in the overflowing glasses and brought more orange juice. Inside Adam laughed because he knew hearing them talk about the interpretation of biblical texts must make Miss Birdie crazy.

Besides, he was having fun. He liked discussing sermons with another minister, and he felt more comfortable with a woman than he had for years because he didn’t think of Mattie as a woman—not that he’d tell her or Miss Birdie that. She seemed like another minister, a colleague but not a possible wife or a woman to impress or date. He felt at ease with her, and the constant surveillance of Miss Birdie amused him.

“I need to tell you something,” Mattie said after Miss Birdie had run out of things to bring or empty or pick up or wipe down and had left several huge take-home boxes, which Adam filled with enough food for breakfasts for the next week. Before Mattie said more, she searched until she spotted Miss Birdie waiting on a table on the other side of the diner. “You are the nicest single man I’ve met in Butternut Creek.”

“Oh? Are there many of us?”

“Actually, you’re the only one I’ve met under fifty.” She grinned. “Right now, I have no desire for a relationship. I broke my engagement before I came here and am not interested in anything, not for years.”

“Pretty bad, huh?”

She nodded.

“Fine with me. I’m not interested in dating now, either. New job, new life.” Adam leaned forward and spoke softly. Miss Birdie would probably believe that those heads close together meant something romantic. “How would you like to go to a movie every now and then or go out for lunch? Maybe discuss the lectionary once a week. That should throw the town matchmakers off.”

“I’d like to. I could use a friend.” She picked up her check. “Give me a call.”

At nine, after the preachers and most of the morning crowd had left, Birdie pulled out her cell phone and punched speed dial. She’d always thought they were a stupid expense until the girls became teenagers. Then they’d become necessities.

“A total waste of time. Not a spark between them,” she said as soon as Mercedes answered. “They spent most of the time discussing the lectionary. What’s the lectionary?”

“Someone divided up the Bible into verses to use in sermons.”

“Why would anyone do that? What’s wrong with the way the Bible was written, all those books. All together.”

“The lectionary covers most of the Bible in a couple of years so you have an idea of the complete Bible instead of just sections.”

“Sounds too complicated.” Let down and disappointed, she shook her head, as if Mercedes could hear that. “Well, that’s what they discussed. For nearly an hour. Hmph. Didn’t work at all.”

“It could,” Mercedes answered. “After all, sometimes it takes a while for the seed to take root. They have something in common. Don’t be so impatient.”

“Bah, I’m not impatient.”

“I’m not going to debate that with you because I have to get back to work. Bye.”

After Mercedes disconnected, Birdie stared at the phone and wondered about her minister. Why hadn’t he found a wife on his own? He was an attractive young man even though his hair was a lot longer than she felt a Christian young man should wear. Of course, Jesus wore his hair long, but Pastor Adam wasn’t Jesus.

“Miss.” One of her customers waved his hand and held up his cup. “Coffee.”

She shoved the phone in her pocket and hurried toward him.

This matchmaking stuff was a lot harder than she’d remembered. Was there another single woman in town she could fix the man up with? Willow Thomas was her only thought, but she was saving her for Effie’s nephew.

Which pretty much left her baffled, not her normal state and very uncomfortable.