she’d loved him like a grandfather. He’d become the closest thing to family she had in the world.
Heavy footfalls sounded behind the door. Mara quickly forced her sadness down and blinked to clear the tears.
The door opened. Pastor Durand stood on the other side wearing light-colored sweatpants with a matching sweat jacket unzipped to reveal a white T-shirt. The edges of his dark brown hair appeared slightly damp and his running shoes were rimmed with mud. Mud she suspected he’d tracked throughout the cottage.
He cocked his head to one side. “Miss Zimmer, what can I do for you? Today isn’t Thursday.”
“I know that,” she snapped, then promptly clenched her teeth. Not the best way to go about gaining his cooperation. She put on what she hoped was a pleasant smile. “Actually, I am scheduled to be here today.”
His intense eyes darkened with annoyance and disbelief. “Really? What for?”
“I need to use the computer. I’ve been working on a project Wednesdays and Fridays from nine to noon. I’ll just slip into the office, and you won’t even know I’m here.”
“I doubt that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you want to use the computer in my office.”
She blinked. “Yes. But…” She made a hopeful face. “I could move the computer to my house and then return it when I’ve completed my project.”
Amusement now danced on his face. “Doesn’t the computer belong to the church?”
Her hope that he’d go for the offer wobbled. “Yes. But the work I’m doing is for the church.”
“You don’t have your own computer?”
“No.” She didn’t explain that her budget wouldn’t allow for the expense.
He shrugged. “I may need the computer at some point.”
The hope took a nosedive and crashed with a burn in her stomach. “Then I guess I need to continue to work here.”
He studied her for a moment, and she had the strangest urge to primp. She lifted her chin.
The beginnings of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth and determination solidified on his handsome face. “Grace tells me you helped the late pastor organize for services. I could use some help, as well. And since Uncle Ben and Aunt Abby are busy with the feed store, I could use a tour guide. Someone to show me the ropes of small-town living. In exchange, I’ll give you unlimited access to the computer.”
Wariness kicked up its heels in her chest. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need unlimited access. Just Wednesday and Friday mornings.”
He laughed, a deep, rich sound. “Whatever. Is it a trade?”
Mara tugged on her bottom lip with her front teeth. She did need to finish the project as a way to honor Pastor Anders, and helping Pastor Durand would count a lot toward the debt she owed God.
She made up her mind. “Yes. We have a trade.” She opened her organizer. “I’ll find time in my schedule to help you get acquainted with Hope and the church.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Her cheeks heated. “Can I get to work now?”
“By all means.” He stepped aside and motioned for her to proceed.
She crossed the threshold and entered the cottage. The smell of rich coffee permeated the air. A portable CD player sat on the dining room table surround by stacks of CDs, and a guitar sat propped up in the worn, brown leather recliner in the living room.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asked as he shut the door behind her.
She ran a hand over the brim of Pastor Anders’s hat, remembering how he always wore the hat tapped down low over his ears whenever he left the house.
“You miss him,” Pastor Durand said.
She looked up and found him watching her. The open, caring expression on his face made her heart pause. To hide her discomfort at knowing he’d glimpsed her grief, she answered his first question. “Coffee would be fine, thank you.”
Without comment, he went to the kitchen, and she went into the office. Nothing had changed as far as she could tell since the last time she’d worked in here. The metal desk that had come from the old high school before they remodeled dominated the west-facing wall.
The computer with the seventeen-inch screen and wireless keyboard sat off center to the stack of spiral notebooks that she was laboriously working her way through. Over forty years of pastoring was compiled in those journals.
A priceless collection of a man’s life.
Mara heard the clang of the cupboard closing, the clink of a cup being set on the counter-top.
“Do you take cream or sugar?” he asked from the kitchen.
“Black, please,” she called back, feeling awkward to have him waiting on her. How was she going to concentrate with him in the cottage?
She sat and tried to focus on the task in front of her. Going through the routine of turning on the computer, opening the top notebook and finding the place where she’d last left off eased some of the tension that had settled on her shoulders the moment Jacob had answered the door.
The fine hairs on her arm tingled with awareness and the tension tightened in her shoulders again seconds before Jacob stepped into the confining office.
“Here you go,” he said as he set a cup of steaming coffee on the desk beside her.
“Thanks.” She opened the file on the desktop.
“What are you working on?”
He had a right to know. “I’m taking Pastor Anders’s sermons and turning them into a book.”
He arched a brow. “He was that good?”
“Pastor Anders loved the Lord passionately. Yes, he was good.”
“I have a lot to live up to, then.”
Was he being sarcastic? A quick glance showed her there was something in his expression, an uncertainty that tugged at her. Was he nervous about Sunday’s service? “I’ve transcribed more than half of his sermons. You’re welcome to look at them and use one as an example. I’m sure he would have been honored.”
“I might do that. Though they do equip us young pastors with outlines in seminary,” he teased.
She found it impossible not to return his disarming smile. “I’m sure they do. How long ago did you complete seminary?”
His jaw tightened. “Two weeks ago.”
“Oh.” He was brand-new at this. She made a few clicks on the computer and then the printer hummed as it spit out paper. She grabbed the sheets and handed them to him. “Here. Have a look at these.”
“Thanks.
