way and trotted off the field as the whistle sounded again.
Hosea Stevens met her at the edge of the crowd.
She sucked in a breath and pasted a smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Pastor. I cost you a half bag of balloons.”
He grinned down at her. “I think I can manage to live through the disappointment.” His gaze sought hers. “I’m sorry about the soaking.”
Angela turned away to look back at the field. “My fault entirely.” There was a sudden burst of applause. “Besides, it seems to have worked out well for Leigh and Phil.” She gave him a quick glance. “Excuse me, I have to go congratulate them.”
Relieved at the excuse to leave his company, she trotted off to join her friends.
Angela stared at the computer screen. She’d been so eager to check the information on Hosea “Slider” Stevens, she hadn’t even changed out of her picnic clothes, and she’d found nothing questionable. She checked her files, her sources of information again. There was nothing. No illness, injury or family problems. No breath of scandal or unexplained absences for any block of time. All she could find confirmed Hosea’s statement. He had simply walked away from the millions of dollars offered him to play professional ball. And that included a signing bonus in a previously unheard of amount for a rookie.
She shook her head and scanned the copy of the newspaper reports again. There was nothing else to check. Nowhere else to go for information. What he had said was true. But, how could it be? She must have missed something. Men weren’t like that.
Angela closed her eyes, rubbed her temples and rotated her neck. Maybe she was just tired. It had been a long day. She’d check things over again tomorrow. She turned off the computer, climbed the stairs and prepared for bed. The softness of the mattress felt lovely after the physical activity of the day. She sighed, and closed her eyes.
“Thank you, Father, for the blessings of this day. Thank you for the lovely weather and the picnic….”
An image of Hosea Stevens’s face implanted itself on Angela’s mind stopping her words. She popped her eyes open, flopped onto her back and frowned. The man was a torment to her. What was she to do?
“What do You want from me, Lord? What are You after? Why did You bring him here?”
There was no answer to her whispered words. Angela sighed, and turned on the light. The pleasant tiredness of the day was gone. There was only a restless confusion swirling through her brain.
She grabbed her pillows, propped them against the head of the bed and reached for the book she’d left on her nightstand. Reading about the hair-raising adventures of the brooding, dark-haired, brown-eyed espionage agent would not only get her thoughts off her troubles, it would drive the image of the blond, blue-eyed, square-jawed Hosea Stevens out of her mind.
Hosea flipped his baseball cap onto the shelf, laid his glove beside it and closed the closet door. It had been a fun day. And the church picnic had given him a valuable glimpse of the members of his new congregation in a relaxed setting. He was already learning their individual personalities and quirks. Like Leigh Roberts’s love of food. He grinned, stripped off his clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket. The woman ate like a linebacker! How did she stay so thin? Angela Warren on the other hand—she’d merely picked at her food.
Hosea shook his head. He’d tried six years ago to find out what happened to the young woman—if anyone had counseled her after her salvation experience. But when he’d called Pastor Barnes to find out, all the man could tell him was that Angela Warren had left the city. Now, here she was in his church. And judging from what he’d been told and the records he’d seen, she was a valuable, active member. Still, she seemed…uneasy? No. It was something more than that. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Did whatever it was have its roots in her past? “Lord, You know what’s wrong. Please give me wisdom to help Angela. Amen.”
He stood waiting for a moment, but no answer came. “All right, Lord. In Your time.” He grabbed a pair of blue-checked boxer shorts from his dresser drawer and trotted to the shower.
Chapter Three
“Well, I think that covers everything.” Hosea flipped the cover of his note pad closed and smiled at the group of people seated around the long table in the conference room adjacent to his office. “Thanks to your prayers and talents, the missionary conference should flow smoothly from beginning to end. And that leaves only one thing I want to say.”
He rose to his feet, placed his hands on the table and leaned forward as he glanced from person to person. The fear that had tortured her these last few weeks gripped Angela anew when his gaze met hers. She looked away. Had he remembered now? Was he going to tell them about her?
“Sometimes words are inadequate—even for a pastor.”
Everyone laughed, but Angela’s stomach tightened.
“This is one of those times, because ‘thank you’ does not begin to express my gratitude for your warm welcome, your openhearted acceptance of me as your pastor, and your understanding and thoughtfulness. It has been your readiness to help me settle in and become acclimated to a new home and church that has made these last few weeks such a smooth and painless transition period. I can’t thank you enough. But I can pray for you.”
Out of the corner of her eye Angela saw him straighten and start around the table. He briefly rested his hands on the shoulders of each person as he prayed.
“Father God in heaven, I pray Your richest blessings upon these, Your children. In Your great love and unending mercy, may You meet their every need, withholding no good gift, but extending healing, deliverance, peace, prosperity, and the greatest gift of all, which is the joy of Your presence in their lives. All this I ask in the matchless name of Your Son, Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen.”
The meeting was over. She could escape. Under cover of the general stirring and amiable chatter of the others, Angela gathered her things and headed for the door.
“Miss Warren, I’d like a word with you please. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll walk you to your car.”
The softly spoken request froze Angela in her tracks. This was it. Her traitorous feet wouldn’t move—wouldn’t take her out the door to safety. She forced her lips into a smile as the others bid her goodnight and filed out the door.
The sound of a hymn the music team was practicing for Sunday morning poured through the open door. It did nothing to ease Angela’s taut nerves. She felt the blood draining from her face as Hosea Stevens walked over to her, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Six years of her life—gone. She would have to move. Start over somewhere new.
Angela swallowed back a sudden surge of nausea and stared down at the white knuckles on her hands as he stopped in front of her. She couldn’t make herself look up at him. She didn’t want to read the knowledge of her past in his eyes.
“Have I done something to offend you, Miss Warren?”
“What?” Angela jerked her head up. “I mean—no.” Had he not remembered? This wasn’t about her past after all. Relief made her weak. She put her hand out and gripped the chair beside the open door for support. “Why do you ask?” He glanced down at her hand and she quickly let go of the chair and stepped out into the hallway. He moved to stand beside her.
“I
