done it before.”
“Watch for signs of concussion. Wake him up a few times through the night to be sure. But I think he’s going to be fine.”
She stepped back and slapped the passenger door in signal. Leon gunned the engine, and in a moment, the pickup was gone.
She was still staring at the road when Sam came to stand beside her. “You seem to know how to defuse every situation,” he said.
She faced him. “What is it about this church that there are so many situations to defuse?”
She said it with good humor. He smiled at her, not quite sure how to thank her, not quite sure exactly what he was feeling at that moment.
He didn’t have time to worry about either. Early and the others approached and congratulated them both on their handling of the incident. Sam was sure he would hear more about this—and not necessarily congratulations—in the weeks to come.
“Sam?” Christine joined the growing group at the front of the church.
“You’re okay?” he asked Elisa, before he faced Christine.
“I’m fine. Now I’ll go find Marvin and see what else a good sexton has to do.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
She nodded.
As Sam whisked Christine off to the side, the others were already embellishing the story beyond recognition.
Christine spoke first. “You punched somebody?”
He wasn’t sure if she was pleased or embarrassed. He suspected she was just sad she had missed the excitement.
“I didn’t punch anybody. I dodged a punch.”
“And Miss Mexican Working Girl helped you?”
He told the story quickly. “Elisa managed to convince him to go home. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.” He changed the subject. “What are you doing out here?”
“I decided to go back to the inn. I’m tired.”
“I need to stay around for a while.”
“By yourself, I’m afraid. I’ve done all the good I can here.”
He was sorry she wasn’t enjoying herself, but what exactly had he expected? That she would fall in love with these people tonight when she hadn’t fallen in love with them in the years of his ministry here? That she would fall in love with the valley and the green hills of Virginia when he wasn’t certain he had?
“Would you like me to go with you to make sure you get back all right?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine.” She touched his cheek, and her eyes sparkled. “After tonight, you’re definitely going to hire that woman, aren’t you?”
“Apparently she can handle anything we throw at her.”
“I guess she’ll be another of your do-gooder projects.” She gave an intimate laugh. “That’s one of those things I love about you. The way you take little wounded birds under your wing and make them all better.”
“Elisa is nobody’s wounded bird.”
“Of course you look for the best in every person and situation. I love that about you, too.”
Sam had known for a long time that Christine did not look for the best. She looked for the most comfortable, the most familiar, the most expedient. Most of the time he was glad of it. She was practical. She kept him on track when he lost his focus.
Still, he knew his intended well. Tonight she was also pointing him along the highway she intended them to travel together and warning against detours into the unfamiliar forests of the soul.
Christine might not see herself as ideal minister’s wife material, but she was reminding Sam that someone like Elisa Martinez was even less so.
Chapter Five
SAM DID NOT believe in putting on a show on Sunday mornings, nor did he believe boredom was conducive to spiritual growth. His worship services were high-energy affairs that made use of the arts to emphasize the simple message that God asked us to love our neighbors and treat them the way we wanted to be treated ourselves.
This was at the core of every one of his sermons. He was less interested in proclaiming ironclad answers to life’s questions and narrowly interpreting scripture. Those who needed a longer list of dos and don’ts, or weekly promises that their way was the only way, had moved on to other churches. For every family he lost, he gained several more.
On the Sunday after the fiesta, he was donning a colorful liturgical stole woven in Guatemala to brighten his somber black robe. His early service had been well attended for one so late in the summer, and a peek into the sanctuary a few minutes ago had confirmed that this one would have respectable attendance, too.
He was wiggling the stole into place and matching the edges when Andy, the choir director, stomped in. He was a young man, flamboyant and outspoken, who, despite impressive credentials, had not been able to find a position in a church near his Strasburg home until Sam hired him.
“They’re murdering the Spanish on the processional! I’ve never heard anything like it.” He flopped down on Sam’s sofa, mock outrage distorting his face. He was a lanky six feet, with a collar-length Prince Valiant haircut colored a stunning orange, and large teeth with a pronounced overbite that made for a spectacular smile. “You’re sure you want us to process to that...that song again?”
Sam was used to Andy’s tirades. “‘Des Colores’ is the official song of the United Farm Workers. Did I tell you that?”
“About a million times. You’d better hope there aren’t any union members at this next service, or they’ll come after you with shovels and hoes. Oh, I got some more rhythm instruments after the last service. Somebody donated them. We’ll march with maracas this time.”
“Good, that will drown out the bad Spanish. God works in mysterious ways.”
“I just can’t believe you keep this job!” Andy got to his feet. “Off to see who shows up to sing. You know, I could have gotten a gig in D.C. They wanted me at the Cathedral.”
“We’d miss you, Andy.”
Andy grinned.
Out in the hallway, Sam was greeted by the dance director in leotards and a tunic adorned with a wide swath of brightly colored fabric. Liturgical dancers were an innovation he had encouraged, and as they headed for the sanctuary, he agreed to smooth out a transition between his sermon and the dancers’ entrance to a recording of “Amazing Grace” played on marimbas. The theme of the day was clear. The celebration of La Casa Amarilla was still in progress.
At the wide double doors leading into the sanctuary, he stood at his place in front of the choir. The sanctuary was nearly full.
As always, he said a short
