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HOME. SHE HAD TO GET herself home, yet it remained the last place she wanted to be right now. The last place, that is, besides Miles’ small studio.
Or maybe she was deceiving herself. Wasn’t there part of her that had wanted to stay? Did that make her a terrible person? Was wondering what might have happened just as bad as if it really had happened? It was too confusing to sort through everything right now. All she knew was that she needed to be home, but she was terrified of facing her husband.
None of the marriage books she’d read in the past year had prepared her for anything like this. There was no chapter called “what to do when your voice teacher tries to seduce you, and you almost comply.”
She had to clear her mind. Figure out what she was supposed to tell Greg. If she was supposed to say anything. Would telling him just make it worse?
She couldn’t think about that right now. She wouldn’t. She drove aimlessly around Orchard Grove, doing everything she could to stop imagining what had almost happened — and what had already happened — in Miles’ recording studio.
Was it her fault? She did say no, right? She did the right thing. But first there had been that moment of paralysis, that moment of hesitation.
If Miles hadn’t told her for the final time that he would stop if she told him to, what would have happened then?
Would she always think about today with this mix of both overwhelming shame as well as an unwanted dose of curiosity? Would there always be a part of her that wondered ... No. She couldn’t think like that. Didn’t Jesus himself teach that mental infidelity was just as sinful as the act itself?
How far had she let things go? And how much was she to blame? Should she be proud for leaving when she did or guilty for letting things progress to that point in the first place?
Her body was trembling, a clash of emotions and fears and adrenaline and shameful desires she tried not to acknowledge. She flicked on the windshield wipers several times before realizing that it was her tears distorting her vision, not the melted snow.
Clear her brain, seize control of her emotions, and then go home. After that, she could decide what she would or wouldn’t tell Greg.
She needed to talk to somebody. Somewhere on the planet Katrina was convinced was another woman who’d gone through something similar, but how would she find that person without exposing her shame to this town full of gossips?
No, it had to be someone on the outside. Someone who wouldn’t turn around and call the prayer chain or talk about her in the ladies’ bathroom while Katrina sat hunched and hidden in a stall.
Where could she find someone like that?
A picture flashed in her mind. Shock white hair, rounded spectacles always slipping off her nose, blouses with oversized collars that had been considered old-fashioned when Katrina’s mom was a child.
Grandma Lucy.
A few minutes later, she parked her car in front of the Safe Anchorage Gift Shop and tried to work up the nerve to go in. It sounded like such a good idea on the drive over, but now that she was here, she was crippled with second guesses.
She hardly knew the eccentric old woman. How in the world do you start a conversation like the one she needed? Hey, Grandma Lucy, I know how much you like to talk to God, so I’ve come here with a prayer request. See, there’s this guy I almost had an affair with.
No. It was stupid for her to come here. There was no use going on and on and talking about what might have happened or what almost happened in Miles’ studio. She needed to get to her own house and do what she could to move on. She started up the car again when someone knocked on the passenger window.
Nancy Higgins. Great. Now that the church treasurer had spotted her here, Katrina would have to go into the store and make some pretense of looking around.
Nancy knocked again, and Katrina did her best to compose herself as she reached over to unlock the door.
“Brrr, it’s cold out there. Mind if I sit down?” Nancy pulled the door shut after her. “I just stopped by for a few candles to add to the Christmas boxes we’re passing out this afternoon. How are you, dear? Are you shopping for presents? My word, child. Your eyes are positively blotchy. Have you been crying?” She lowered her voice. “Is it about the baby?”
Katrina bit her lip until she was sure she was close to drawing blood and shook her head. Still gripping the steering wheel, she prayed Nancy would go away and leave her in peace.
“Well,” Nancy sighed. “I don’t pretend to know what’s going on, and it’s not my place to try to guess, but you sound like you could use a friend, and I hate to say it, but sometimes true and open friendships can be hard to come by in a town like this. So if you ever want to talk ...” Her voice trailed off.
What kind of pastor’s wife was she? Poor Nancy probably thought Katrina was crying because Greg had run out of ice melt and one of the elders had yelled at him, or she was homesick and wished she could fly home to be with her mom this Christmas.
What kind of pastor’s wife almost does what Katrina almost did? What kind of pastor’s wife would ever even put herself in that sort of situation?
For a fleeting second, she thought about telling Nancy everything, unburdening her soul, painful and awkward and ugly as it would be. At least then she wouldn’t be forced to carry this shame around with her like a burning secret. Nancy wasn’t as terrible of a gossip as Mrs. Porter, and beneath her somewhat brusque exterior Katrina knew was a compassionate heart. A maternal heart. Someone who could guide Katrina and tell her what she was supposed to do next.
But she couldn’t talk about it. She was the first lady of Orchard Grove Bible Church, and if anyone in her husband’s congregation found out what she had nearly done ...
Katrina wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a really busy week, and I think all the holiday stress has got me a little worn down.”
Nancy nodded. “I understand completely. By the way, did your doctor tell you to take extra iron supplements after the miscarriage? You’ve got to be real careful about anemia, because it can sap your energy like that.” She snapped her fingers in the air.
Katrina forced a wavering smile. “I’ll be ok. Just holiday stress.”
“That’s perfectly normal.”
Katrina nearly laughed. If Nancy could only guess the real reason for these tears.
“Thank you for checking on me,” she finally said. “I think I’ll just go home and rest for a little bit.”
Nancy nodded sagely. “That’s a good idea. And remember, you can always call me if there’s anything you want to get off your chest. I’m not going to pretend like Orchard Grove Bible’s an easy church to work for, and you’re so young, and you and Pastor Greg have only been married for a few months, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re both doing a fantastic job.”
After everything she’d just gone through, it was silly for Katrina to cling so tightly to Nancy’s words, but she would take any small comfort she could get. “Thank you.” She hoped Nancy could hear the sincerity in her voice. After few more of the expected pleasant exchanges, Nancy left and headed up toward the gift shop. Katrina put the car into reverse, took a deep breath, and mentally prepared herself for the trip home.