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Rick took a few more steps away. “She wasn’t displaying any good heart when she marched in and attacked me over my choice of music.”
Rusty walked up behind him again. “Our Charity. What a gal.” He laid a hand on his boss’s shoulder until Rick faced him, and then Rusty leaned in for a close examination. “Well, it doesn’t look like she left any marks—visible ones, anyway. Why don’t you give her a break this time?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Besides, it’s not like you have to work with her every day or anything. You probably won’t have to see her again until the dedication.”
From your mouth to God’s ears. But to Rick, he only said, “Okay. You’re right.” It was awfully hard for him to see gray in his black-and-white world, and his friend expected him to see the full range of hues from soft silver to dark steel. “But that woman is as pious as the rest of those church people I remember.”
“I’m one of those church people, R.J., and you know me, warts and all. It’s not fair to pile us into one pot any more than it would be for me to judge your relationship with God.”
Rick stared at Rusty. He did know him, through years of work and through a friendship where the roots had grown deep. “Point taken. But hey, she attacked me.”
“I’m not debating that. I don’t know what put a bee in her bonnet. But I’m telling you there’s another side to Charity. The side that appears when she puts on her scrubs and heads into those fancy labor rooms.”
“Obviously, her transformation didn’t work today because she had scrubs on when she was here.” Rick tried a bit of humor, but Rusty shook his head, apparently not buying it.
“I’ll never forget when she helped deliver Max.” Rusty paused as if he was reliving that special day. “When she handed me that big round boy, I saw tears in her eyes.”
Rick raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, she’s not completely evil.”
“Far from it, my friend.” Rusty grinned and, without another word, turned and jogged to the rear of the building site that would eventually be the gymnasium.
Rick exhaled as he watched him, all of the wind ripped from his perfectly good rant. Watching the other workers, he had the creepy sensation that they’d been observing him during the discussion with Rusty. At least they couldn’t have heard it. But the breath he exhaled, he immediately drew back in. Just how long had they stood there discussing this woman who was a stranger to him? Stranger? After that discussion, he knew more about Charity Sims’ personal life than he’d learned about many crew members who had worked for him for months. Years even.
Rick tightened his tool belt and returned to the saw, hoping the blare would drown out thoughts of anything other than roofing trusses and subcontractors. Nothing would be allowed to divert his focus from completing this project on time and with the highest quality workmanship.
Sweaty work had always been his ticket out of his past and into the security and respect he craved. With this project, he could finally prove to those who believed he would amount to nothing that they were wrong.
Because it didn’t make much difference when compared to such critical matters, he would cut Charity some slack. She would likely keep her distance from him now, anyway. If she didn’t, well, he’d cross that bridge when he slammed into it.
Chapter Three
Two days later, Labor Day offered a sunny Monday off for many laborers, but fidgetiness kept Charity from enjoying the respite. Concentrating on the pots of chrysanthemums and garden tools at her feet was impossible when she only had to peek around the church building’s corner to see the prospect who had become “priority one” in her mission work. Even on the holiday, Rick remained the lone construction worker, toiling as if some supervisor still had him on the clock. Or as if he had something to prove.
After adding another look in that direction to the dozen earlier, she regretted turning down her mother’s invitation for their annual holiday outlet shopping spree. At the time, relaxation had seemed more important. Well, if relaxation wore grass-stained gardening shoes and was on constant alert, then she was well on the road to tranquility.
She continued yanking fists of dying wax begonias from the earth, the loose dirt seeming the most solid thing beneath her lately. But finally she gave in to her curiosity and took another peek at the building project. Too bad Rick, sporting a Detroit Red Wings cap and sunglasses, picked that moment to trudge toward the front of the church building where she’d been working.
“Sure is a beautiful morning. It was, anyway.” He stopped several feet away but gazed directly at her, sunlight catching on his unusual blue eyes. “It’s afternoon now.”
Though Charity’s cheeks burned, and her mouth competed with the Sahara on the dryness scale, she managed an affirmative noise in her throat. An awkward silence followed until they both spoke at once to break it.
“Hey, I’m sorry—”
“You know, I’m sorry—”
Charity couldn’t help laughing and felt relieved when Rick joined in. As he took a few more steps toward her, she scrambled to her feet. The filth she wiped from her palms to her holey jeans probably came with a dose of perspiration. She resisted the temptation to pat her hands on her loose ponytail. It shouldn’t have mattered how she looked. “I wasn’t bothering you, was I?”
“No. Was my noise bothering you? I didn’t have any music on this morning.” His smile was no less than devastating, that soft-looking mouth incongruous with the hard lines of his cheekbones. A small split tamed the perfection of his straight teeth.
Could her face and neck have gotten any warmer? “Uh…no. Of course not.”
“I really am sorry about the other day. I was obnoxious.”
How tempted she felt to let him take the blame for the whole crazy incident, but she resisted. She took her mission to bring this man to church seriously. To that end, she forced herself to look directly at him and to smile back. The Lord’s work required great sacrifice.
“No, I’m the one who overreacted and berated you about the music,” she said. “I went about it all wrong.”
Stuffing his hands in his pockets as if suddenly more uncomfortable in the situation, Rick pressed his lips into a straight line. That only made more obvious how little about Rick McKinley was soft. Not his features, all sharp angles and hard planes, and not his physique, which appeared as hard as the bricks stacked next to the building.
At her realization she’d been gawking, Charity glanced away from him, ashamed. “I’d better get these planted.”
She sat cross-legged on the ground, digging her fingers back into the earth. To safety. She pulled a few weeds, expecting him to retreat to the construction site. But he stayed there, staring across the field at Andrew and Serena’s house.
“I didn’t expect to see anyone here today,” he said as he dropped to his knees a few feet from her and yanked out a handful of weeds. “I figured everyone would be grabbing that last taste of summer. All of my crew are doing that.”
“But not you.” The words slipped past her better judgment before she could censor them. Her slip and his closeness made her so nervous she dropped the trowel and had to scramble to retrieve it. Now he probably thought she was wondering why he’d come here today and why he remained so close she could smell the sawdust on his clothes. And he would have thought right. “Me, neither,” she added in a rush. “I’m ready for summer to be over. I thought I’d get a head start on fall while everyone else was gone.”
“Do you do all of the gardening work at the church?”
She almost smiled at that. And it pleased her more than it should have that he’d attempted to make conversation when he easily could have left. He probably just wanted someone to talk to, and his crew was off for the day. It wasn’t as if he was interested in her or anything. They had nothing in common, as far as she could tell. Besides, she would never date a guy who quite possibly didn’t even go to church.
“The trustees take care of the grounds, but I’m in charge of the landscape committee. I do what I can with a limited budget and donate the rest.”
He nodded and yanked off his cap, tucking it in the waistband of his pants. Though his hair was sweaty and mussed, Charity could tell he’d gotten a haircut and appeared almost presentable. He resumed plucking weeds, even reaching beside her to borrow the trowel and dig out a few deep roots.
“You do a good job,” he said after a while.
It was the smallest of compliments, and yet Charity felt her insides warm with pleasure. From the way she’d reacted, she would have sworn he’d just dubbed her a master landscaper or something. “It looks bad right now.”
“No, it looks in transition.”
Neither said anything for a while, but they continued in companionable silence until they’d cleared the planting bed. “I have to get more plants from over there in the shade,” she told him. He surprised her by following and helping her carry flowers.
“Thanks, but you don’t need to do that. You’ll probably want to get back to your own work.”
Why had she encouraged him to leave when it was the last thing she wanted? But his nearness felt a little too nice to be a good idea.
“I don’t mind.” He laid the green plastic pots on the ground. “I needed a real break, anyway.”
Charity turned her head away to hide her grin. In her defense, it had been an awfully long time since she’d had an actual conversation with someone who wasn’t her mother, a co-worker or a fellow church member. But this wasn’t about her. This conversation presented an opportunity, and she needed to get busy with church work.
“How is the project coming along?” she asked.
“Now that we’ve framed the walls, we’ll be setting the trusses and sheathing the roof.” He glanced back at the structure and shook his head. “Until the building has a roof, we can’t install windows, doors or flooring.”
“Do you think you’ll meet the November deadline?”
He shrugged. “It’s going to be tight. If all the subcontractors—plumbing, electric, heating and cooling, insulation, drywall and finish flooring—are on time, and that’s a big if, then we’ve got a chance, anyway.”
“Oh, I hope everything moves quickly. That would be great if it would be ready for the Thanksgiving celebration.”
She dug a few holes and indicated for Rick to hand her individual plants to put into them. Once she lowered them into the ground and patted the dirt back into place, she turned back to him. “Have you heard about that event? It’s like a family holiday dinner times fifty.”
“Sounds okay, I guess, if you like things like that. But if anything throws the schedule off, it won’t be happening this year inside the new building.”
“If the project is done, you’ll come to the church celebration, won’t you?”
He made a noncommittal sound and handed her another plant. Well, at least it wasn’t an outright no. She could almost guarantee he’d be a regular church attendee before that next holiday.
She looked back at him again. “How was your Labor Day weekend?”
“Short. I worked Saturday, remember? And isn’t today still part of the long weekend?”
She nodded and took a deep breath before diving in. “Didn’t see you at church Sunday.”
“I wasn’t there. I don’t attend church.”
Now that sounded like a definite no. Her confidence slipped, but it wasn’t like her to give up easily. “You need to give it a chance, Rick. You’d just love Hickory Ridge. It’s a great church community.” She refused to hear how empty those words sounded in her ears or to wonder whether she even believed what she’d said. If the church was so great, then why did she feel so lonely lately every time she entered its doors?
“It’s not your specific church I’m opposed to. I disagree with organized religion overall.”
Charity’s mouth went dry. How could anyone believe such a thing when church was so much a part of her life, the center point of her daily schedule? But then the shock evaporated into irritation. “If you don’t believe in churches, then why are you building the Family Life Center?”
“I believe in honest work and giving clients the very best. And my foreman, Rusty, convinced me this was a good project for us—a group he believes in—so we went for the contract.”
The dispassionate way he said it bothered her even more. “I don’t understand how you can think this important project is just work. And if it’s just about earning a living, then why are you here alone today when you won’t accomplish much?”
Instead of answering her question, he shrugged. Charity planted her hands on her hips, refusing to wonder why his apathetic attitude annoyed her so much. Of course, it was justified, and she hurriedly searched for a reason to tell him before he spoke again. But he beat her to it.
“Hey, great news about the youth minister’s new baby. I heard you helped with the delivery.”
A punch couldn’t have knocked the wind out of her as effectively as that statement had. Uneasiness put an end to her annoyance. How much did Rick know about Andrew? Had Andrew told him the whole embarrassing story?
Her thoughts whirling off-kilter, she struggled for some appropriate response. She had to think of something to say before the awkward pause in their conversation expanded like a fault line during an earthquake. In a rush, she choked out, “Yes, Seth is a sweet baby. He is so perfect—such a wonderful gift from God.”
“That’s funny,” he said. “I thought they were all supposed to be gifts from God—even the less-than-perfect ones.”
Charity jerked up her head, but he only looked away. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. He’d just gotten her all flustered, and now she’d fallen in a trap of her own words. Why did it seem she couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together when this man was around?
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, part for effect and part as self-protection from the way he muddled her thoughts. “I know perfectly well that all children are precious to God. In Matthew 19:14, Jesus even says, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.’”
She couldn’t help feeling a little smug over that comeback. That would show him not to twist her words.
But Rick only shook his head, a strange smile appearing on his lips. “Yes, the Bible is an amazing book, the Book of Matthew in particular, where the Beatitudes are found. One of them says ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’ Meek and humble mean the same thing, don’t they?”
Charity felt color draining from her face. He’d as much as accused her of having no humility. She searched madly for some appropriate retort, something to put this arrogant fool in his place, but she finally ran out of steam. “Oh…just forget it. Did you have some real purpose here, or did you just come to bother me?”
Rick made a negative sound and didn’t meet her gaze when he said, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Then why are you here? Really?”
“I thought it would be quiet at the site with the holiday and all.” He shrugged and took a few steps toward his black extended cab pickup. Over his shoulder he said, “I came to pray.”
To pray? Charity still reeled from Rick’s words, even as she watched him dump his tools in the truck and drive from the church lot. Part of her wanted to offer him good riddance, while the other part wished to pepper him with questions. It made no sense that he would have such a problem with churches and yet come to pray at the deserted church lot. Come to think of it, why was he praying at all if he didn’t attend church? And how was he quoting Scripture if he didn’t hear it every week in sermons?
Was it possible for him to have faith, even if he didn’t teach Sunday school or sing in the choir or, at the very minimum, attend Sunday services regularly? She just didn’t know.
And equally confusing was how he seemed so intent on twisting everything she said to make her look bad. It was as if he wanted to make some statement, but whatever it was, she wasn’t getting it.
At least he hadn’t pushed the issue of the Westin baby or any nastiness from her past regarding Andrew. Maybe he didn’t know as much as she’d first suspected. The relief that pushed a heavy breath from her lungs surprised her. Why did it matter so much that a near stranger didn’t know about her less than shining past?
Gardening having lost its appeal, Charity gathered up her tools and crossed to her car. She refused to acknowledge the voice inside that questioned her leaving right then, when the church grounds were finally empty and she could work alone.
She needed to get home and rest; that was it. The excuse was sure easier to swallow than that she was still bothered by that conversation with Rick. And not just the mini scriptural debate, either. She’d had plenty of those over the years, and she could hold her own against all but the best-trained biblical scholars. Far more troubling was how enjoyable she’d found chatting with Rick and planting with him side by side.
The image of his startling blue eyes, with character lines crinkling at the corners, stole into her thoughts. How light and sparkling those eyes appeared when Rick laughed. How anger darkened that color at least two shades. She knew. She’d seen—and probably inspired—both reactions.
Suppressing that image took more energy than should have been necessary, but she’d accomplished it by the time she’d closed the car’s trunk. Obviously, she had to be a little friendly with him to accomplish her mission of bringing him to church, but she wasn’t supposed to enjoy herself so much. She admonished herself to focus on her Christian duty rather than the handsome prospect as she climbed behind the wheel.
But that didn’t stop her from jerking her head sharply toward the sound of gravel being shot up at the end of the long church drive. Her pulse slowed only when inside the cloud of dust, she saw Andrew’s car instead of a pickup. You just didn’t want to argue with him again, she told herself, trying hard to believe it.
Obviously on the return ride from the hospital, Serena sat next to her husband, and a plastic handle from an infant car seat protruded from the center back seat. As they passed, Andrew stopped and rolled down his car window. Charity pressed her foot to the brake and hit the automatic window button.
A head full of dark curls suddenly pressed up against the back of Andrew’s seat, Tessa’s tiny hand waving madly through the crack between the door-frame and the headrest. “Hi, Miss Charity. We have a new baby brother.”
Teaching the Tiny Tot Sunday school class did have its advantages, like getting to know sweet little kids like this one. “That’s great, Tessa. I heard you’re a big sister. Boy, that’s an important job.”
“It sure is,” the kindergartner announced and sat back to fuss over the bundle in the car seat.
Andrew shook his head, his grin so big his cheeks had to ache. “Are you having a good holiday, Charity?”
“Not as good as yours, having your family home again.” Charity leaned forward so she could see the youth minister’s wife. “Welcome home, Serena. I bet you’re glad to be back.” It was surprising how much easier it was to have a friendly conversation with the other woman after having served as her nurse. Until now, they’d been polite but not overly friendly.
“I’m looking forward to having food with flavor in it. The hospital menu was pretty bland, but I guess you already know that,” Serena said just as Seth started fussing from Tessa’s overzealous attention. “Oh, I forgot the sleepless nights. Looking forward to those, too.”
Charity laughed with her. Not that she wouldn’t mind walking the floors a few hours with her own colicky newborn, but she refused to be envious today. It only exhausted her. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said and found that she meant it.
With a few waves and an increasing volume of newborn wails, the Westins drove past to park near the old barn behind the house. Charity continued out of the drive, her thoughts still on the family climbing out of the small car.
The Westins had given her an idea. Sure, she needed to continue her mission to bring Rick to church, but she shouldn’t focus her ministry so singularly. There were plenty of other needs in the church she could address as well. The Westins might appreciate some help in adapting to life with their new baby, and Tessa probably needed a little extra attention right now because of her changed status in the family.
That was it. If she was busy ministering to several church families, she would be much too preoccupied to let her thoughts focus on one brooding man. The plan seemed pretty good, but for some reason, it still didn’t allow her to relax. In theory, it sounded perfect, but she worried it would fail woefully in practice.
Chapter Four
Rick stomped into his downtown Milford house, not even taking the time to wipe off his work boots as he usually did. A little dirt couldn’t harm the badly scarred hardwood floors he’d recently uncovered, but it seemed counterproductive to his restoration project to make things any worse. Today, though, he just didn’t care.
