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Even with the added height of the tub, she barely reached his shoulders. The oversize work shirt and shapeless jeans emphasized her small stature. She reminded Jacob of a hobbit from Tolkien’s tales.
Jacob coughed into his fist to hide a smile. It was a minute before he could speak. “I’m Pastor Durand. And who are you?”
Her weapon wavered a bit. “You…you can’t be our new pastor.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “And why not?”
“You’re…” She emphasized her words with a sharp jab of her brush in the air, spraying the walls with cleanser-loaded water. “You’re too…too…young.”
“I didn’t realize there was an age requirement. I’m twenty-six, by the way.”
That wild hair curled into her face and she pushed it back with an impatient swipe of her forearm, leaving a smudge of green cleanser on her face. “I don’t believe you.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t believe I’m twenty-six? Do you want to see my driver’s license?”
She made an exasperated noise. “I don’t believe you’re our new pastor. The new pastor isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t take me as long to get here as I had anticipated.”
“And…and he’s going to be older, more experienced.”
Her words scraped along an already touchy nerve.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you. I hope it will be years before I need a walker.”
She scowled harder at him. “Where else have you pastored?”
There was a knock on the front door, then a deep, booming voice called out, “Hello? Jacob, are you here?”
Saved by the cavalry. “Back here, Uncle Ben.”
Ben Campbell came down the hall. His tall frame ate up the narrow space. Younger than Leland, Ben was nearly as tall and more rugged looking. Living in the Pacific Northwest, with all the opportunities to be outdoors hiking, hunting and camping probably did that to a person. Things Jacob realized he’d have the chance to do before he returned to the city.
Ben pulled Jacob into a bear hug. “Hi there, nephew. I saw your rig out front.” For a moment the air was squeezed from Jacob’s lungs, then Ben let go and stepped back. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Ben. How’s Aunt Abby?”
“Good, good. She’s anxious to see you. You made good time.”
Jacob nodded and glanced at the wild woman standing in his bathtub. “I did. I guess I should have warned…someone I’d be here tonight.”
Following Jacob’s gaze, Ben’s dark eyebrows rose slightly. “Mara, honey. What are you doing in the bathtub?”
She waved her brush at Jacob. “You know him? He’s your nephew? Our new pastor?”
“Yes. Great nephew, actually. And yes.” Ben’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Mara Zimmer, meet Hope Community Church’s new pastor, Jacob Durand.”
Grace had mentioned something about a Mara. There couldn’t be two people with such an unusual name. Jacob’s mouth quirked as he watched her digest and finally—though he figured grudgingly—accepted his great-uncle’s words.
With much dignity, she climbed out of the tub, set down her brush, wiped her hand on her jeans and then walked directly to him with her chin held high. She stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor Durand. Welcome to Hope.”
“I’m here only temporarily, until a permanent pastor can be found,” he stated, wanting to make sure everyone realized he would not be staying for long.
Good manners dictated that he accept her offered hand, regardless of the fact that gooey cleanser still clung to her skin.
Their palms met, his fingers curling around her slender hand. He was afraid to squeeze for fear he’d break those fragile bones. Though her skin was rough with cleanser and hard work, her small hand fit neatly within his with surprising strength.
A strange spark traveled up his arm.
Must be an allergic reaction to the cleanser, because she certainly wasn’t his type.
He pulled his hand back and subtly wiped his palm on his denim-covered thigh. “It looks like you’re pretty much done in here, and the rest of the house looks great. Thank you, Mrs. Zimmer, I appreciate the effort.”
She tucked in her chin. “It’s Miss. And you don’t owe me a thank-you. This is my job.”
“Job?” So she wasn’t just a caring soul wanting to welcome the pastor.
“Yes, job.”
She spun on her heel and picked up a black organizer from the sink counter that he hadn’t noticed before. She flipped open the book and held it in front of her. “My schedule is as follows. I clean the church building on Mondays, which is your day off.”
That was news. “Is it?”
She glanced up. “Yes, it is.” She returned her attention to the book. “I—”
“What if I don’t want Mondays off?”
A little crease appeared between her unshaped eyebrows. “Pastor Anders always took Mondays off.”
“I’m not Pastor Anders, now am I?”
He heard his uncle make a noise, but Jacob was too interested in Miss Zimmer’s reaction. He liked the way her pert little nose flared slightly as if she smelled something distasteful.
“You can take any day of the week off. I don’t care. I clean the church on Mondays.”
“Why not Thursdays?”
Her finely sculptured jaw tightened. “I clean the church on Mondays, the cottage on Thursdays. This is the way it is done. My schedule is very tight and I need to stay on track. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t come barging in and try to change things.”
He took offense to that. “Barging in?”
It wasn’t as if he’d jumped with joy at this detour in his plans. “I don’t need you to clean the cottage while I’m here. I’m perfectly capable of picking up after myself.”
Those amber eyes sparked with indignation and a bit of desperation. “You don’t want me to clean the cottage? But I’ve always cleaned the cottage.”
Uncle Ben laid a hand on Jacob’s arm. “Go with the flow, Jacob. Let her do the job the church pays her to do.”
“Fine.” He relented, not liking the fleeting look of defeat in those magnificent eyes before she lifted her chin and haughtiness entered. “The cottage on Thursdays.”
She gave a sharp nod. “Ben, let Abby know I’ll be there tomorrow as always and if she wants the refrigerator defrosted this week to leave me a note.”
She began gathering up her supplies. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I’ve a schedule to keep and the mayor’s wife is hosting a quilting bee tonight.”
Jacob and Ben stepped out of the way as she swept past them and out of the cottage, taking the buzz of energy with her.
Bone-deep exhaustion flooded through Jacob. His muscles were stiff and needed to be exercised. He’d take a long run later.
There was a slight throbbing behind his eyes. He’d driven most of the night and day with only a few stops. He hadn’t wanted to waste time. He just wanted the next few months to go by as quickly as possible.
Ben clapped him on the back as they moved into the living room. “Wow. I’ve only seen Pastor Anders take on that fireball and come out unscathed. Everyone else in town pretty much leaves Mara be. Sad story that girl has.”
Ben’s dark eyes narrowed. “You look beat. Abby will want you to come for dinner.” He checked his watch. “We’ll eat around six. That’ll give you a few hours to unwind and relax.”
“Thanks, Uncle Ben.”
After his uncle gave him directions to their house, he left, and Jacob headed straight for the phone to call his grandfather. Carol told him in her crisp, distant way that Leland was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. Jacob held on to his irritation at being put off and asked to have his grandfather return his call as soon as possible.
As he hung up, it slammed into him just what Grace Stephens had said about Mara. He’d have to ask Miss Zimmer for the information he needed about Sunday services. With a groan he sank onto the couch.
So that meant he was going to have to deal closely with the wild woman who’d brandished her scrub brush so deftly. And for some reason, he actually looked forward to sparring with her.
Which didn’t make any sense, but nothing in the past few days had gone as he’d planned, so why should this be any different?
Chapter Two
A boulder-sized lump of dread sat heavily on Mara’s chest, but she ignored the sensation.
Life wasn’t for the faint of heart, and the road she traveled was full of hard work. But someday she’d reach the end.
Someday she’d find redemption, then she could pick and choose her path. Then maybe she’d find the happiness and connections she longed for. But until that day came, she’d do what needed to be done.
Today she was scheduled to work on the project she’d started nearly six months ago.
Transcribing Pastor Anders’s sermons and memoirs from his scribbled notes to the computer set up in his office.
Correction. Pastor Durand’s office. In the cottage.
How much hassle would moving the computer cause?
She regretted she hadn’t brought up the project when they’d met yesterday, but he’d flustered her with his sharp wit and heavy-lidded, watchful eyes. If his scrutiny hadn’t been so intent she would have said he had puppy-dog eyes.
But there was nothing soft and squishy about the man. It had taken everything in her to get out of there with some semblance of dignity.
And worse, he seemed to find her amusing. Though she’d caught anger in his brown eyes when she’d questioned his age.
The man was far too young and handsome to be a pastor. Granted he was two years older than she. But she felt ages older than twenty-four. Still, a tall, lean-muscled twenty-six-year-old pastor with a strong square jaw just wasn’t appropriate.
He didn’t resemble what she thought a pastor should look like. Approachable, harmless. Good-natured with a ready smile. That certainly wasn’t Jacob Durand. There was something dark in his eyes, something forbidden.
She’d expected, wanted, the new pastor to be like Pastor Anders. A man in need of an assistant. Older, willing to have her serve him and the church.
She needed to be of service. But somehow she doubted Pastor Durand would understand as Pastor Anders had. He’d helped her through the worst years. Kept her from spinning toward depression with his suggestion she could find more useful ways of serving God than wallowing in self-pity.
That’s when realization had come to her. If she wanted God’s forgiveness she needed to earn it.
Her organizer lay on the farm-style kitchen table in the middle of the living room. She closed the book with a decisive snap, which dislodged a stray garnet-colored bead. The bead rolled off the edge of the table and landed in the green shag carpet. She plucked the bead from the fibers of the carpet and set it in the box with the rest of the materials she used for making jewelry.
Time to finish what she’d started. She slipped into her brown leather walking shoes and briskly set out for the pastor’s residence. There were no cement sidewalks, so she walked on the paved road past the manicured yards of her neighbors. She admired the well-kept houses and wished she had the extra funds to fix up her house.
But that wasn’t a priority.
At the door of the pastor’s cottage, she hesitated. She could hear the strains of guitar music coming from inside. Apparently another difference between the old pastor and the new.
Maybe she should have called, warned him she was coming over. She squared her shoulders. She had a job to do, and he was just going to have to let her do it.
She rapped her knuckles loudly on the door. The music stopped. As she waited, she wiped the bottoms of her shoes, dirty from the road, on the shoe rug she’d bought for Pastor Anders last spring.
Sudden tears sprung to the backs of her eyes. She missed the old coot. He’d been gruff and set in his ways, but she’d loved him like a grandfather. He’d become the closest thing to family she had in the world.
Heavy footfalls sounded behind the door. Mara quickly forced her sadness down and blinked to clear the tears.
The door opened. Pastor Durand stood on the other side wearing light-colored sweatpants with a matching sweat jacket unzipped to reveal a white T-shirt. The edges of his dark brown hair appeared slightly damp and his running shoes were rimmed with mud. Mud she suspected he’d tracked throughout the cottage.
He cocked his head to one side. “Miss Zimmer, what can I do for you? Today isn’t Thursday.”
“I know that,” she snapped, then promptly clenched her teeth. Not the best way to go about gaining his cooperation. She put on what she hoped was a pleasant smile. “Actually, I am scheduled to be here today.”
His intense eyes darkened with annoyance and disbelief. “Really? What for?”
“I need to use the computer. I’ve been working on a project Wednesdays and Fridays from nine to noon. I’ll just slip into the office, and you won’t even know I’m here.”
“I doubt that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you want to use the computer in my office.”
She blinked. “Yes. But…” She made a hopeful face. “I could move the computer to my house and then return it when I’ve completed my project.”
Amusement now danced on his face. “Doesn’t the computer belong to the church?”
Her hope that he’d go for the offer wobbled. “Yes. But the work I’m doing is for the church.”
“You don’t have your own computer?”
“No.” She didn’t explain that her budget wouldn’t allow for the expense.
He shrugged. “I may need the computer at some point.”
The hope took a nosedive and crashed with a burn in her stomach. “Then I guess I need to continue to work here.”
He studied her for a moment, and she had the strangest urge to primp. She lifted her chin.
