13

Darcy cracked open the heavy, dark stained-glass door of the church sanctuary. She could barely see the traffic light through the thick snowfall. Practice was definitely canceled. And by what she couldn’t see of the road, she and the good pastor were not going anywhere anytime soon.

Clicking the door into its frame, she leaned against the smooth wooden surface. She needed to prepare for Aunt Lulu’s return home. Being stuck anywhere but behind a computer ordering hospital grade furniture, researching techniques for orthopedic recovery in seniors, and shopping for supplies was a disaster.

She had lists to prepare, food to make, and furniture shuffling to do. Organizing a Christmas pageant only two weeks before the holiday didn’t even make the top one hundred of the things she needed to accomplish. And yet, she was stuck in a church with a pastor who seemed more concerned about getting the score of the hockey game than creating a flawless representation of the Savior’s birth, or the more dire problem, discovering a way to get them out of the church in the middle of a massive snowstorm.

“How’s it looking?”

Lifting her gaze, she stared into the crystal blue eyes of Finn Tarrington. Correction. Pastor Finn Tarrington. Why did a man of God need to be drool worthy?

“I can barely see the traffic light.”

“An alert just came through.” He lifted his phone. “The county is at a level three snow emergency.”

“Whoa. The worst we ever get in Columbus is a level two.”

“More windy roads and hills out here. I’m sure first responders are thankful for the call.”

She nodded, but had no idea why the police or firefighters would care about the level of the snow emergency. They had to go on calls no matter what the county determined.

“I chaplain for the township fire department and the police. The less people on the roads, the easier it is for the county to get the roads clean and the fewer road emergencies they have to solve.”

“Makes sense, but that means we can’t get home.”

“Once the snow settles, we can walk to your aunt’s house. It’s only about a mile.”

She glanced down at the only items she had in her car when she left home yesterday: leggings and running shoes tucked in her back up gym duffle. “Do you happen to have a magical carpetbag with snow boots, pants, and gloves like Mary Poppins?”

Trailing his eyes from the top of her head to her sneaker-covered feet, he laced his arms across his chest. “Guess you’ll have to stay.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. In a church this size there has to be a decent number of lost and found items. I can makeshift an outfit.” Scooting around him, she shuffled down the stairs connecting the main entrance to the basement. “If you won’t help me, I’ll help myself.”

She heard the squeak of wet shoes on the tile floor behind her. “Hang on.”

“I need to get to Lulu’s. I have too much to do before she comes home. I can’t waste time here with you.”

“Ouch! And I was just teasing you. Don’t they tease where you are from?”

“Oh...I didn’t realize you were teasing.” Heat burned a path up her neck, settling warmly on her cheeks. “I can be a little intense during stressful situations.”

“Well, that might be a bit of an understatement.”

“So, teasing…you’ll help me get home?”

“Of course. I’m a pastor. It’s kind of required in the job description.”

Releasing her arms to her sides, she let out a soft sigh. “I’m pretty used to doing things myself. I’ve been on my own for a while

“Why don’t we make some coffee while we wait for the storm to settle down?”

Without waiting, he turned left and headed down a darkened hallway. The squeak of his running shoes echoed off the empty halls. Watching his lean form disappear, her heart quickened, sending her feet skipping after him. “Wait up.”

“Afraid?”

“No. I am not afraid. I’m simply unfamiliar with my surroundings.”

“Always so formal, Dr. Langston?”

“How did you know I was a doctor?”

He laced his fingers through hers and led her forward. The simple touch awoke fireflies in her belly. She avoided looking down because she was fairly certain she could create her own flashlight with their exuberant dance.

“Lulu’s my best friend in Gibson’s Run. I know all about your research, and your brother’s mission to save greater Nashville one vaccine at a time.”

“You know about Bennett, too? Why didn’t Lulu ever tell me? I thought he was living a big old dream life in California or New York. How could I not have known my twin brother was running a free clinic in an underprivileged community? He just told me last night when we got back to Lulu’s.”

He shrugged, tugging her forward through a wide doorway. With a flip of a switch, the fluorescent lights flickered and began humming with the waking electricity. A long, wide commercial kitchen stretched before them with hanging pots, stainless steel counters, a twelve-burner stove and two commercial refrigerators lording over the space like a king and queen at court. “Whoa, this is amazing. We’re still in your church?”

He chuckled. “Yes, Dorothy, still in the church.”

“My name’s Darcy.”

Pressing a slow breath through his lips he shook his head. “Yes, I know. I was teasing again. You know…Dorothy? The Wizard of Oz?”

The fireflies zoomed from her belly to her cheeks. How could she not catch on to the teasing? She wasn’t a complete nerd. Well, she didn’t think she was a complete nerd. She could be cool. Last week she even went grocery shopping without a list and splurged on chips and a frozen pizza. She just did not get his humor. Or maybe he was one of those people who thought he was funny when he really wasn’t. “You know you aren’t very funny.”

“Really?” he asked, with a lift of his eyebrow.

She shook her head. “No, not really. You’ve apparently been trying to joke with me and I haven’t understood a single one of your jokes.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not funny.” He stepped closer to her and tweaked the end of her nose with his thumb and forefinger. “That means you’re not funny.”

“I’m funny!”

He turned from her with a chuckle. Opening and closing several cabinets, he pulled out a pan, two mugs, cocoa powder, and sugar. “Do you mind grabbing the whole milk from the fridge?”

“I thought we were having coffee?”

He shrugged. “I’m improvising. I could use a little sugar with my caffeine.” He glanced over his shoulder and locked his gaze with hers. “I need fuel to be creative. And this play we need to plan, is going to require more than the ridiculously cheap coffee the church has in stock. We need sugar to stimulate our muses. I’m not as funny as you clearly are.”

With a stomp, she closed the distance to the beautifully polished stainless-steel refrigerators, standing nearly a foot taller than her. Yanking the door open, she saw three rows of milk of varying fat content. “Shouldn’t we use the non-fat milk? It’ll be better for us.”

“No. Always use whole ingredients. The hot chocolate will be non-inspirational if we use non-fat milk. Whole milk will provide holy creativity.”

Handing him the full fat milk, her lips twisted. “Really? ‘Holy creativity?’ Did they teach you that in pastor school?”

“Ha! Pastor school. That’s almost funny. The holy milk is already working. Imagine what you’ll do when you sip a whole cup of holy milk hot cocoa?”

Darcy rolled her eyes, but her stomach flittered with the dozens of firefly wings pulsating.