Several were reprints of old photos, probably from Pastor Anders’s past. There were three beautiful Ansel Adams landscapes dominating the living room wall above the worn leather sofa.
The strangeness of stepping into someone else’s life squeezed the air from Jacob’s lungs. Thankfully, he’d only be filling this role on a temporary basis, then he could start his own life on staff at Shepherd’s Way.
As Jacob followed the sound toward the open doorway of the bathroom, he glimpsed the bedroom to his right and the kitchen to his left. The brief glance gave the impression of a clean and tidy house.
He stopped abruptly in the doorway of the small green-and-white-tiled bathroom. A petite woman, wearing worn, baggy jeans and a red plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, bent over the rim of the claw-foot tub. Her whole body moved with the force of her arms as she scrubbed the inside of the tub. Short brown hair curled around her head in disarray.
Jacob cleared his throat. “Hello.”
The woman screamed, the sound echoing painfully in his ears. She jumped into the tub and whirled around to face him, her legs braced apart and her cleanser-covered scrub brush pointed at him like a rapier.
Her wide, gold-colored eyes glared at him with a mixture of anger and panic.
She wasn’t a classical beauty, but it was kind of cute the way she held her weapon out as if ready to do battle.
“Who are you!” she demanded.
Even with the added height of the tub, she barely reached his shoulders. The oversize work shirt and shapeless jeans emphasized her small stature. She reminded Jacob of a hobbit from Tolkien’s tales.
Jacob coughed into his fist to hide a smile. It was a minute before he could speak. “I’m Pastor Durand. And who are you?”
Her weapon wavered a bit. “You…you can’t be our new pastor.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “And why not?”
“You’re…” She emphasized her words with a sharp jab of her brush in the air, spraying the walls with cleanser-loaded water. “You’re too…too…young.”
“I didn’t realize there was an age requirement. I’m twenty-six, by the way.”
That wild hair curled into her face and she pushed it back with an impatient swipe of her forearm, leaving a smudge of green cleanser on her face. “I don’t believe you.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t believe I’m twenty-six? Do you want to see my driver’s license?”
She made an exasperated noise. “I don’t believe you’re our new pastor. The new pastor isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t take me as long to get here as I had anticipated.”
“And…and he’s going to be older, more experienced.”
Her words scraped along an already touchy nerve.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you. I hope it will be years before I need a walker.”
She scowled harder at him. “Where else have you pastored?”
There was a knock on the front door, then a deep, booming voice called out, “Hello? Jacob, are you here?”
Saved by the cavalry. “Back here, Uncle Ben.”
Ben Campbell came down the hall. His tall frame ate up the narrow space. Younger than Leland, Ben was nearly as tall and more rugged looking. Living in the Pacific Northwest, with all the opportunities to be outdoors hiking, hunting and camping probably did that to a person. Things Jacob realized he’d have the chance to do before he returned to the city.
Ben pulled Jacob into a bear hug. “Hi there, nephew. I saw your rig out front.” For a moment the air was squeezed from Jacob’s lungs, then Ben let go and stepped back. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Ben. How’s Aunt Abby?”
“Good, good. She’s anxious to see you. You made good time.”
Jacob nodded and glanced at the wild woman standing in his bathtub. “I did. I guess I should have warned…someone I’d be here tonight.”
Following Jacob’s gaze, Ben’s dark eyebrows rose slightly. “Mara, honey. What are you doing in the bathtub?”
She waved her brush at Jacob. “You know him? He’s your nephew? Our new pastor?”
“Yes. Great nephew, actually. And yes.” Ben’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Mara Zimmer, meet Hope Community Church’s new pastor, Jacob Durand.”
Grace had mentioned something about a Mara. There couldn’t be two people with such an unusual name. Jacob’s mouth quirked as he watched her digest and finally—though he figured grudgingly—accepted his great-uncle’s words.
With much dignity, she climbed out of the tub, set down her brush, wiped her hand on her jeans and then walked directly to him with her chin held high. She stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor Durand. Welcome to Hope.”
“I’m here only temporarily, until a permanent pastor can be found,” he stated, wanting to make sure everyone realized he would not be staying for long.
Good manners dictated that he accept her offered hand, regardless of the fact that gooey cleanser still clung to her skin.
Their palms met, his fingers curling around her slender hand. He was afraid to squeeze for fear he’d break those fragile bones. Though her skin was rough with cleanser and hard work, her small hand fit neatly within his with surprising strength.
A strange spark traveled up his arm.
Must be an allergic reaction to the cleanser, because she certainly wasn’t his type.
He pulled his hand back and subtly wiped his palm on his denim-covered thigh. “It looks like you’re pretty much done in here, and the rest of the house looks great. Thank you, Mrs. Zimmer, I appreciate the effort.”
She tucked in her chin. “It’s Miss. And you don’t owe me a thank-you. This is my job.”
“Job?” So she wasn’t just a caring soul wanting to welcome the pastor.
“Yes, job.”
She spun on her heel and picked up a black organizer from the sink counter that he hadn’t noticed before. She flipped open the book and held it in front of her. “My schedule is as follows. I clean the church building on Mondays, which is your day off.”
That was news. “Is it?”
She glanced up. “Yes, it is.” She returned her attention to the book. “I—”
“What if I don’t want Mondays off?”
A little crease appeared between her unshaped eyebrows. “Pastor Anders always took Mondays
