Arizona Pastor (6 page)

He sneaked a quick glance at Kristy. Her lips were pursed so tight that wrinkles covered her chin. She blinked several times, but he still spied the tears threatening to spill over her lids.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” she whispered.

“You're welcome.”

The words proved too much for her because she gasped. Then tears streamed down her cheeks. Wade glanced around the cab until he spied an unused napkin from a fast-food restaurant. She nodded her thanks when she took it, and he again tried to focus on the road. One of his favorite songs about God's amazing love wafted from the speakers, and he silently prayed she would drink in the words and allow them to be a healing balm to her heart.

She sniffed. “Do you really have a newsletter question for me?”

He did have one question, though he'd planned to ask Chad, the music minister, or Greg, the youth minister, but Kristy would be a better choice. “I do need some advice.”

Sneaking a peek at her, he winked. The smile she gave him lit up her face and made her already-glistening eyes sparkle. “But I probably didn't have to steal you away to ask it.”

She giggled, and Wade's heart flipped. He pulled into the parking lot of Paradise Bakery and Café.

“So what's your question?”

He parked, then shifted in his seat to face her. “I'm going to add a short devotional to the newsletter.” He cupped his chin with his thumb and pointer finger, then tapped his jaw. “Do you think I should do that at the beginning or end?”

Kristy dipped her chin and narrowed her eyelids. “That's your question?”

“It's a question.” He motioned to her. “You're the English professor. I was going to ask Chad or Greg, but you'd definitely have the most professional opinion.”

She grinned, then tilted her head. “Okay. I'd say at the beginning. Put everyone in a God-centered frame of mind before they start reading.”

“Sounds like a terrific idea,” he agreed. “Actually, that's perfect.”

She furrowed her brows. “You doubted me?”

“Not for a moment.”

She motioned to the café. “So why did we come here?”

“Thought we'd get a cup of coffee, maybe say a prayer to help you feel less bamboozled.”

“What if I don't drink coffee?”

Wade scoffed. “A teacher who doesn't drink coffee?”

Kristy laughed, all evidence of tears gone. “I'm kidding. Of course I do.”

They got out of the truck and walked into the café. Kristy ordered a caramel latte and a scone, while he got a black decaf and a cinnamon roll. He found a place in the corner, surrounded by windows. She took a sip of her latte, then stared at him.

He wiped his mouth, then looked down to see if he had cinnamon-and-sugar crumbs splattered across his shirt. “What?”

The left corner of her lips curled up. “Bamboozled, huh?”

“Impressed by my vocabulary?”

She shook her head. “Not a word I hear every day.”

“Maybe I'm smarter than the people who you come into contact with.”

“With whom you come into contact.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you're going to impress the English professor, you shouldn't end your sentence with a preposition.”

“What's a preposition?”

“With.”

“With what?”

Kristy leaned back in her chair and laughed, a deep, to-the-bottom-of-her-belly sound. Wade joined in her mirth as he searched his mind for the meaning of
preposition.
He remembered learning the word and that his teacher had connected it to a mouse going places. That was all his discombobulated mind could recall. He sat up. Maybe he'd have a chance to throw out that word, as well.

She finished the last bite of her scone as he swallowed the last of his coffee. A chuckle slipped through her lips, and she exhaled a breath. “Thanks, Wade.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Feeling less discombobulated?”

She laughed again. “Not if you don't stop using big words.”

“Was that a double negative I just heard?”

She scooped up her trash, then grabbed his hand. “Come on. Take me back before I forget how to speak.”

They cleaned the area and headed back to the truck. Once their seat belts were buckled, she turned toward him. “I mean it, Wade. Thanks so much for saving me at Tim and Leah's house.” Her hand shook just a bit as she raked her fingers through her hair. “I still can't believe it. Mel had so many plans before she started dating Joel.”

Unsure what to say, he simply nodded as he started the truck.

“My heart hurts that I don't have the money to pay for a wedding,” she continued. “I've struggled every day to make a decent life for Mel and me. My parents are missionaries in Brazil. One of my sisters is overseas in the military. Another one is a brand-new stay-at-home mom whose husband is a cop. I don't have family with unlimited resources. I can't compete.”

She continued to vent the rest of the way to Tim and Leah's house. Wade listened and prayed for direction. For how to counsel Joel and Mel. And for what to do with the attraction he felt for Kristy. He parked in front of the house. Before getting out of the truck, she squeezed his hand. “Thanks to you. I can do this now.”

His heartbeat quickened, and he followed her up the sidewalk. He'd need to get his dog and get out of there because he was more confused about how to handle this whole situation than he had been before the day started.

* * *

Two days later, Kristy pulled down the visor and looked at her reflection as she applied light pink lipstick. She patted her cheeks, wishing she could do something to cover the freckles that splattered across her face and gave her a more youthful appearance. She bit back a laugh. Only a teen mom who'd spent her adult life avoiding comments like “you don't look old enough to have a kid that age” would understand Kristy's need to appear more mature.

After scooping her briefcase out of the passenger's seat, she stepped out of the car and then smoothed out the wrinkles in her peach pencil skirt. As she walked toward the community college, she hoped the rhinestone she'd hot glued back on to the top of her favorite sandals stayed in place. Even though Leah and Tim were determined to pay for the wedding, Kristy planned to help foot the bill or at least help with some of the baby costs. She wouldn't have extra money for new wardrobe pieces for quite a while.

Once in her classroom, Kristy turned on the laptop and pulled up the presentation software. She took the syllabi and first-class assignments from her briefcase, and then looked over her notes.

A knock sounded at the door, and Kristy motioned for a young woman to come inside. She glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing the summer writing class would begin in fifteen minutes.

“Hi, Professor Phillips.” The woman ducked her chin and waved with her free hand. The other held on to a small boy, probably three years old. The little guy's hair was a mass of red curls. His eyes were big and puffy from being awakened, and his mouth was turned down in a frown. “I'm sorry I had to bring my son. I hope it's okay.”

Kristy looked back at the young woman. Her light red hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. Her expression appeared just as fatigued as her son's.

“My mom couldn't watch Jonah today. Normally, it won't be a problem. I would have emailed and told you I couldn't make it…” She lifted one shoulder. “I just didn't want to miss the first class.”

Kristy's heart tightened as memories washed over her: missing class when Mel had been sick, asking family and friends to watch her when schedules had changed, begging one particularly grumpy professor to allow them to simply sit in the back of the auditorium. She'd promised to leave right away if Mel had fussed. The man had stood by his no-children-in-the-classroom policy.

Kristy smiled at the young woman. “I completely understand. You'll normally have child care?”

The woman nodded. “My mom always watches him. She just had a doctor's appointment today.”

Kristy pointed to the back of the room. “Why don't you just have a seat in the back beside the door? That way if he gets fussy, you can slip out without any disturbances.”

“Thanks.”

“What's your name?”

“Hannah Akers.”

Kristy passed her a syllabus and the first assignments. “I'll go ahead and give you these in case you have to slip out.”

Hannah sighed. “I appreciate it. It's not easy being a single mom and going to school.”

Kristy nodded. She understood better than Hannah knew. Opening the top desk drawer, she pulled out a couple of suckers and handed them to Hannah. “These might help keep him occupied.”

Hannah thanked her again and then made her way to the back as several students entered the room. Throughout class, Kristy tried not to look at Hannah and her young son, Jonah. She tried not to remember her own struggles getting through college while caring for a toddling daughter. She tried not to allow worry for Mel and her unborn grandchild to seep through her thoughts and distract her from the lesson.

She exhaled a sigh of relief after she passed out the assignments and dismissed the class. Intellectually stimulated and emotionally overwhelmed, she contemplated going home, changing into shorts and a T-shirt and taking a walk through the White Tank Mountains.

“Professor Phillips?”

Kristy turned. One of her students, a dark-haired young man, leaned against the door frame. “Yes?”

“I'm Curt Earlywood.”

He pushed away from the jamb and extended his hand. She shook it, but when he held her grip for a moment longer than necessary, Kristy pulled back. “How may I help you, Mr. Earlywood?”

“Call me Curt.” He chuckled, but the sound came out more like a snort than a laugh. “My buddy took your class last semester. He said you were pretty hot.”

Kristy raised her eyebrows and glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, he said you were pretty. And he said you were a really nice lady. And…” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “I wondered if I could treat you to lunch.”

Kristy's initial anger simmered as she realized the boy must not have intended to sound disrespectful. “Thank you for the offer, but I'll have to decline.”

“How come? It's not as though we're not adults.”

Kristy blinked at the immature response. With a firm word and a narrow gaze, she would have reprimanded any other young man, but Curt seemed truly hurt by her refusal. She folded her hands together. “It would be highly inappropriate for me to go on a date with one of my students. Additionally, I'm much older than you realize.”

He sneered. “I know lots of professors who go out with students.”

She shook her head. “Not this one.”

He released an exaggerated sigh, then shrugged. “Well, okay. It was worth a try.”

She bit back a grin and nodded. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

He turned to leave, then stepped back through the door. “Just out of curiosity, what are you? Like twenty-six?”

“Try adding a decade to that number.”

Curt's eyes widened, and he left in a hurry. Kristy shook her head. Not only was Mel unprepared for mothering, Kristy was unable to fathom being a grandmother.

W
ade walked into Marley's Restaurant and Bar, one of Surprise's favorite restaurants. He'd been here before for lunch and enjoyed a turkey sandwich. The catfish dinner with fried potatoes and coleslaw had looked so delicious, he'd determined to try the meal for the church's monthly men's dinner out.

He had still been moving into his house during the previous event, so he wasn't sure what to expect. Chad Whalen, the church's music minister, had assured him Wade would have no responsibilities. Whoever wasn't busy came for the meal. They'd fellowship and eat, and then they'd go home.

Wade spied Chad in the back corner. The youth minister, Greg Rogers, stood beside him. Wade swallowed a chuckle at the visual contrast between the two men. Though only a few years apart in age, Chad looked much older than Greg. Chad's copper-colored hair was short and styled, his beard full but neatly trimmed. He wore a red polo shirt tucked into a new pair of jeans with a brown leather belt around his waist.

In contrast, Greg's black hair had been cut to look messy and even spiked out from various angles. Thick black glasses would have given him a Clark Kent appearance if not for his ultrasmall frame, which he'd covered with a hipster T-shirt and skinny jeans. When Wade had first seen Greg, he'd instantly stereotyped him to be a semi-Gothic, probable junkie. Until Wade heard him talk about Christ. Greg was sold to the Lord, 100 percent, and his unthreatening appearance and zeal for God drew in the teenagers of the community.

Wade shook Chad's hand, then Greg's. “Hey, guys. Just the three of us?”

Chad motioned to the rest area. “Freddy'll be right back.”

Greg pointed to the door. “Here comes Ron.”

Ron Rice, one of the older deacons of the church, grabbed Wade's hand in a death grip of a handshake. “Evening, Reverend Wade.”

“Please. Just call me Wade.”

Ron teased, “Take some getting used to if I call my minister just by his first name.”

“Times are changing,” said Greg.

Ron furrowed his brows at the younger man and humphed as he plopped down in a chair.

“How's Wilma tonight?” asked Chad. He winked, and Wade had a feeling the music minister had just averted an argument between the two men.

“She and Dortha went to dinner together, since Freddy and I are here.” He looked around the restaurant. “Where is Freddy?”

“I'm here, old man.” Freddy patted Ron's back. “Just had to use the men's room.” He plopped down beside his friend.

Wade glanced at the time on his smartphone. Fifteen minutes past the agreed-upon time. “Looks as if this is all of us.”