to come through her first. Weddings, funerals, births, breakups and especially new people in town.
Arabella glanced around. Thankfully, Jasmine had gone behind the swinging door to the kitchen. Zach motioned to that same door then went in, probably to keep Jasmine busy.
Jonathan looked as uncomfortable as Arabella felt. “We met briefly earlier out in the parking lot. We haven’t had a chance to really get to know each other.” Giving her an apologetic but challenging look, he reached out a hand. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Michaels.”
Arabella took his hand, shaking it in spite of her better judgment. His grip was firm, his fingers lingering on hers while his eyes swept over her face. Did she see longing there in his misty eyes, a plea for forgiveness, maybe? Or was this just another one of his tricks?
The room turned from uncomfortable to a bit too warm.
“Call her Arabella,” Dorothy suggested. “You two can’t be that far apart in age.”
“Arabella,” Jonathan said. “I like that name.”
“It means ‘beautiful altar,’“ Dorothy supplied with a beaming grin. “Or ‘entreated,’ depending on which name book you look at.” She winked at Jonathan. “Of course, Arabella here’s the one who’ll have you begging. For more of that good bread!”
Dorothy cackled at her own joke while Jonathan looked like a trapped raccoon.
Arabella pulled her hand away. “It’s almost time to eat. Help yourself, Dr. Turner.” She turned to go back to her spot at the serving table.
“Excuse me.” Arabella heard him, then noticed how he rushed past Dorothy, almost taking Dorothy’s purse with him, to catch up. “I’m sorry. She insisted.”
“I’m sure. Here to spy again? Pick everyone’s brains for more information on my family?”
“No … I’m done with spying. But I would like to get to know my niece. And you.”
Arabella turned on that note. “You should have tried that to begin with, by being honest. I don’t trust sneaky people. And you’d better steer clear of Jasmine tonight. She’s had a hard time of things, and I don’t want to upset her. Not here, not now.”
She glanced around and saw her cousins Marsha and Vincent across the way with Marsha’s husband, Billy Dean Harris. Uncle Samuel’s clan usually came to church when food was being offered, and they’d sure gossip about anything unusual. Especially if they found out Jasmine had an uncle from Denver.
“You can meet Jasmine tomorrow,” she said, her tone firm.
He looked genuinely crushed. “I’d like to start over, okay? Can we call a truce for now? I promise I won’t approach Jasmine. I’ll wait until you tell her.”
“Since I don’t have much of a choice, I guess I can agree to that. But … I’m watching you, you understand?”
“Got it. No more hiding in the bushes.”
She looked him square in the eye. “Good, because next time I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
It didn’t help that Pastor West held up his hand for quiet the second before she said that loud enough for several people standing by to hear.
And it sure didn’t help that the good reverend chose that particular moment to ask, “Arabella, would you mind leading us in prayer?”
Jonathan found a seat across from Arabella, still smiling to himself at how she’d managed to go from threatening to shoot him to praying sweet words of praise and thanksgiving. He wasn’t all that hungry, but the church ladies had ladled him a plate full of chicken and dumplings and fresh squash along with several other colorful vegetables, apparently grown in the community garden behind the church. They also piled on two big snickerdoodle cookies. He couldn’t say no, not with Arabella Michaels giving him a daring look each time he thought about bolting for the door. He was afraid she’d either shoot him or pray for him. Or maybe do both.
To ease his discomfort, he pulled a worn picture out of his pocket, one finger touching the grinning face of the little girl. The picture was old. According to the lawyer who’d told him about her, Jasmine would be at least eighteen by now. All this time and he’d never even known she existed.
She was his only family now. They were both alone. Well, Jasmine seemed to have a solid church family. But he was all alone. He had a thing about family.
He’d always wanted a real one.
He wanted to let Jasmine know that he cared about her, even if his bitter older brother had stopped talking to Jonathan the day he’d left their sorry life behind. Jonathan wanted to offer her a chance to go back to Denver with him. Or at least come and visit him there. He could do that. He could give this girl the kind of life he’d never had.
He kept watching all the people laughing and talking around him as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Arabella had introduced him to her cousin Brooke and a friend named Kylie, both nice women who’d offered him more food. Clayton had obviously hit on hard times, but no one in this room seemed to mind. Arabella told him they all pitched in to bring the food and that she supplied the bread and desserts for a lot of these meetings. Maybe there was something to being part of a church family.
But where was his niece?
“Want a piece of apple cake?”
He looked across the table at Arabella. She hadn’t eaten much, either. “No, I’m good.” He coughed. “I’m a little nervous. I can’t get used to … being an uncle.”
She leaned close. “I can’t get used to you being Jasmine’s uncle.”
Seeing the tiny twinkle in her eyes, he relaxed. “I guess I could have knocked on your door and told you who I am.”
“That’s how most people announce themselves.”
“What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” he asked quietly.
Arabella scooted her chair around the end of the table so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Are you kidding? That child is starving for love. I worry about her. She always sees the good in people.”
“What if she can’t see any good in me?”
Arabella leaned back and gave him a squinting look. “I can’t see much bad, unless you’re still hiding things from me. You could be a thief on the run or a bank robber passing through.”
“Your cousin had me checked out, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. He did, didn’t he? But … that doesn’t mean I’m completely sure of you.”
He quirked a brow. “Are you always this distrustful?”
“Yes, pretty much. I have good reason not to trust people.”
He was about to ask her why when an older woman came walking toward them with three cute little girls, all holding hands. The woman wore her hair in a silver bun, but the little girls had shimmering, light brown curls and big pretty brown eyes.
Arabella
