that, even for a good cause. Getting through church tomorrow would be about as much socializing as she could manage.
“You sell yourself short, Jodi.” Garrett’s words lilted persuasively, too reminiscent of times he’d conned her as a kid into doing things she’d later come to regret. “Remember how you turned around your Grandma’s floundering yard sale? And you were only what—eleven? Twelve?”
“Thirteen.” Grandma hadn’t a clue about grouping similar items and showing them off to best advantage. Or about negotiation. Despite a clearly stickered, more-than-fair price, she would accept the first ridiculously low offer without batting an eye. In addition to rearranging the merchandise, Jodi had put a stop to that.
She couldn’t help but smile at the memory.
“See?” Garrett almost gloated. “You do remember. You have a gift, Jodi, and maybe God’s called you to be in town right now so you can use it for His glory.”
She folded her arms. “I’m not falling for the ‘God loves you and Garrett McCrae has a wonderful plan for your life’ stuff.”
Eyes twinkling, he shrugged. “Figured it was worth a try. So how about it? It won’t take that much time, and I can round up some high schoolers to help whip your cabin into shape. Even if I have to get my own hands dirty, I’ll see that you have extra time for the Christmas project. It’s one that is near and dear to my Grandma Jo’s heart—and was to your grandma’s as well.”
While help cleaning out the place would be welcome, no fair bringing Grandma into the equation.
“What exactly will this entail?” Why was she even asking, allowing Garrett to sway her after all these years? But maybe she was letting her personal problems turn her into a Grinch as her sisters had accused. Becoming selfish. All about me. “I’d be organizing the distribution of canned goods? Clothing? Toys?”
“All of the above. Behind-the-scenes work.”
Would it really kill her to help out? To make a little room in her own plans during the next two weeks? She might not be able to boil water, but she did have a knack for project management, a talent she was paid well for in the corporate world. How hard could it be if this Melody person had been keeping on top of the project since early in the year as Garrett claimed? And maybe it would be a means of honoring her grandmother’s memory.
“I guess...I can take this on.”
Garrett grinned. “You won’t regret it, Jodi, I promise. Melody says this project is the highlight of her whole year—that there’s nothing better for the soul than making the holiday season brighter for unwed mothers.”
A blast of cold air from the open door swirled in around Jodi’s ankles, sending a shiver rippling through her.
Unwed mothers?
* * *
“You’d better get moving, Garrett. You don’t want to be late again.”
Cutting off his hummed rendition of “O Holy Night,” he glanced at the rail-thin gray-haired woman standing in the doorway to his room on Sunday morning. Seventy-year-old Dolly Lovell and her husband had taken him in as a boarder a year ago when he’d been cautioned that as a single pastor it might not be advisable to get a place of his own and he hadn’t want to bunk back with his folks. As it turned out, this lodging arrangement not only came with meals and occasional help with laundry, but also built-in chaperones.
“I’m heading out right now.” He reached to the top of an antique dresser for his Bible and an iPad filled with sermon notes, then gave his part-time church receptionist a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Al to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
Dressed for church herself, a smiling Dolly shook her head as he slipped by her. “It’s a dirty job, Pastor McCrae, but somebody has to do it.”
There was probably more truth in her humorous comment than he cared to think about. Born with—and long indulging—an independent streak made coming under the authority of the church leadership a never-ending challenge. Both for him and them.
It wasn’t far to the church, a distance he most often enjoyed walking, but this morning he jumped in his old Ford Explorer to make better time. Although he didn’t have a Sunday school class to teach this quarter—he’d used the extra hour this morning to shovel out the Lovells’ driveway and polish up his sermon—he’d caught his mind wandering one too many times. If he was late, it would be Jodi Thorpe’s fault.
He could still hear her laughter when she thought Grady’s preacher comment was a joke. Could see the shock in her eyes at his admission that he was an official God’s man. He wasn’t unaccustomed to that reaction since returning to Hunter Ridge, of course. With the exception of Drew, he’d taken a lot of ribbing from his high school buddies—and even was shunned by a few. Many adults who’d known him when he was growing up eyed him with skepticism. No surprise. But for some reason Jodi’s disbelief pierced him to the core.
Admittedly, it was a stretch to accept the changes in his life. Especially when Jodi was standing in the mudroom where as a hormone-driven teen he’d once attempted to put the moves on her right under her family’s nose. But deep down he’d hoped to hear the friend of his youth confess she’d seen something in his early years that foreshadowed this turn of events. Or that her grandmother had admitted to glimpsing a nugget of promise in him.
More likely, though, all her grandma saw was an undisciplined young rascal who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
Nevertheless, Jodi had agreed to take on this year’s Christmas project. A load off his shoulders, for which he was grateful.
As always, his spirits rose at the sight of the church building. This morning the weathered brick edifice, built in the 1930s, looked like something out of a magazine with snow coating the roof and the surrounding ponderosa pines. Some noble soul had shoveled the walkways and bladed the parking lot, the sun now pitching in to do its part.
There were good people here at Christ’s Church. He was more than fortunate to land a ministry opportunity with a congregation like this one as he prepared for a future in missions work. But did they consider themselves equally blessed to have been saddled with him? They’d been pretty desperate when he’d come along. Following the departure of their third minister in as many years, they’d been without one for six months when Grandma Jo took a hand in things.
And now they’d be looking for a replacement once again.
“Garrett!”
His cousin Luke Hunter—Grady’s older brother—waved him over as he approached the front of the church. A newlywed of only a few months, he looked happier than he had in years. The high-spirited former Delaney Marks had certainly impacted the widower and father of three in a big way. He was much more relaxed now, less hardheaded, and occasionally could even pass for laid-back. While Garrett hadn’t heard anything official, if Grandma Jo’s suspicions were correct, child number four might be putting in an appearance not too far into next summer.
When he reached his relative’s side, the men shook hands, and his cousin lowered his voice. “I want to give you a heads-up. Old Man Moppert isn’t happy that you’ve rearranged things at the front of the church.”
Randall Moppert. Again. The guy had never forgiven him for TP-ing his trees when, in the pitch dark and slightly inebriated,
