There were times Jack Vale wished he still believed in coincidence.
This was definitely one of them.
How many people lived in Banister Falls? Six . . . eight thousand? How many churches were scattered throughout the city limits? At least half a dozen?
But here she was. Looking at him with those incredible blue eyes—yeah, Jack remembered those too—like he was the one who was trespassing.
Now they were even.
Because the first time they’d met, Jack had assumed the people sneaking around Travis’s backyard were two of the neighborhood’s friendly drug dealers, taking their party right to his brother’s door.
So, yes, he’d confronted them . . . but Jack hadn’t realized they were women until they’d turned around and the porch light illuminated their faces. And they probably hadn’t realized that the baseball bat resting in the crook of his arm was more of a prop, meant to emphasize Jack’s opinion of their presence, than an actual threat.
“What are you doing here?” She glanced at the purse on the floor between them. A cell phone sprouted from a pocket in the side.
He could practically see her dialing 911.
“Look . . . I’m sorry if I startled you.” Jack raised his hands, slowly. Smiled. See, no bat. No weapon of any kind. “I heard a noise and thought I should check it out.”
Usually a smile put people at ease. Not Blue Eyes.
“Check it . . . How did you get inside?” Her expression didn’t change, but Jack heard the undercurrent of tension in her voice. “The church is closed.”
“I work here. I’m the custodian.”
“The custodian.” She took a step closer to her purse.
Not quite the reaction he’d expected.
It suddenly occurred to Jack that he might look a little . . . rough. Pauline, the church secretary, had told him there was nothing going on at Hope Community on Thursday nights, so he hadn’t bothered to change clothes after he’d worked on his brother’s car. Hadn’t bothered to shave off a two-days’ growth of beard either.
“Just for a few weeks.” It might be a good time to start dropping names. “Harvey was called out of town for a family emergency, so Pastor Keith hired me right before he left for a conference.”
“He hired you?”
In all fairness, Jack had been kind of surprised too.
“You can call the secretary. Pauline put me on the payroll.” Jack started to extend his hand but changed his mind when he saw the grease from Travis’s carburetor still trapped underneath his fingernails. “Jack Vale.”
“Evie . . .” She hesitated a moment, but at least it looked like she was finally starting to believe him. “Bennett.”
“Bennett.” The name sounded familiar. Familiar because Jack remembered seeing it on the door of one of the offices he’d vacuumed earlier in the week. “You work here too?”
One coincidence, God. Just one. That’s all I’m asking for.
“I’m the director of women’s ministries.”
Jack wasn’t sure what a director of women’s ministries did, but he knew what it meant. Evie Bennett wasn’t just a member of the congregation. She had the power to get him fired.
Jack’s gaze swept over her, taking in the crisp white shirt and the khaki pants that tapered down to trim ankles.
Evie looked as put-together as her office, with its pastel furniture and watercolor prints featuring peaceful landscapes with coordinating verses of scripture, artistically arranged on the pale-green wall behind her desk.
Jack supposed there were some women who would find the room a comfortable, inviting place to pour out their hearts. But not someone like Cheryl, who’d be afraid that what was in her heart would permanently stain the fabric on one of Evie Bennett’s dainty, little chairs.
He’d tried to tell his sister-in-law about forgiveness and grace, but Cheryl viewed God as some kind of heavenly parole officer glaring down at her from heaven, ready with a lightning bolt if she made another mistake. At least that was a starting point. Travis refused to acknowledge God’s existence at all.
“I’ve been on vacation all week,” Evie said, yanking Jack from the shadowy detour that his thoughts had started to take him down. “Will Harvey be back by this weekend?”
“By the weekend . . . no.” At least Jack hoped not. He needed this job. Not only for the income it provided, but as an excuse to stay in Banister Falls a little longer. “Pastor Keith told me it would be about a month.”
“A month.”
For the first time, Jack saw a ripple in the calm blue waters of Evie Bennett’s eyes. “Is something wrong?”
“You’re the one in charge of getting everything ready for the wedding on Saturday?”
Well, that explained the ripple. As the director of women’s ministries, Evie was probably in charge of special events at the church.
“The secretary did mention something about a wedding.” Jack couldn’t resist teasing her a little. But once again, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Didn’t you see the notes I left in Harvey’s office?”
By “office” Jack figured Evie was referring to the oversize utility closet adjacent to the furnace room. And her “notes,” the grid of Post-its perfectly aligned above the shelf of cleaning supplies.
“I saw them.” Fluorescent pink was pretty hard to miss. “I took care of everything marked Tuesday and Wednesday, and I was just finishing up the list”—the very detailed list—“for today. I’ve got everything under control.”
Evie didn’t look exactly reassured as she reached down and scooped up her purse. “I . . . if you’ll excuse me, I have to carry some things out to my car.”
“I can do it.” Jack went to reach for one of the plastic bins, but she beat him to it.
“That’s all right. I . . . I really don’t need any help.”
The rigid set of Evie’s shoulders, the way she averted her eyes, translated the words more accurately.
I really don’t want your help.
Okaaaay . . . message received.
Jack backed into the hallway, giving her some space. “I’ll have everything else ready by Saturday afternoon.”
If he still had a job by then.