The Pastor's Christmas Courtship

He released his grasp on the door handle, his expression uncharacteristically ill at ease. “You caught that, did you?”

“I take it your cousin has a good sense of humor.”

“Grady,” Garrett said, as he slowly rubbed the back of his neck, “has a good sense of humor, all right.”

Obviously he didn’t want to explain. While as a youngster she’d have kept at him, pushed until she all but choked out the whole story, that wasn’t appropriate now. They were two adult strangers whose lives had moved on from each other. People were entitled to their privacy. Goodness only knew, she hoped he’d respect hers.

“I don’t think I want to hear about it,” she said with a teasing lilt, letting him off the hook as she opened the door and climbed out.

In a twinkling he was at the side of the truck, probably grateful for the reprieve, and lifting out the toboggan. He set it on the ground, then snagged several bags and placed them atop it. Pulling two more from the bed of the truck, he handed her one and gripped the heavier of the two in his own hand.

“Ready?” Garrett grabbed the toboggan’s tow rope. “Lead on.”

With the side porch light illuminating the way, they progressed through the snow and up to the porch itself. Garrett held open the screen door as she fumbled with the keys to unlock the dead bolt. Then she stepped inside the dimly lit mudroom.

Ah, the infamous mudroom. Scene of the crime. Or rather the not-so-romantic setting of their first—and only—kiss.

The tiny space had been dark that night, too, an unexpected cocoon of privacy in a cabin teeming with family and friends readying for the Christmas Eve service. Now she self-consciously set the bag and backpack on a counter—the same counter she’d leaned against for support when her legs threatened to give way as Garrett’s lips tentatively touched hers. Or tentatively at first, anyway.

Taking a quick breath, she flipped on the light switch, the bare bulb overhead banishing both the shadows and too-vivid memory. Avoiding meeting Garrett’s gaze—afraid his own memories might have followed hers—she returned to the door and took the proffered bag.

He quickly transferred the remaining ones to the mudroom floor, then propped up the toboggan outside the door. “Looks like that about does it.”

“Thanks, Garrett. I’ll put the sled in the shed later.” She slipped out of the old coat and hung it on a peg of the knotty pine–walled room. “Would you like to come in for a cup of cocoa? Or I could fix coffee.”

In all honesty, she didn’t want to invite him in. The less she saw of Garrett or any other old acquaintances during her brief stay here, the better. She needed time alone to work through things—the aching loss of Anton’s recent death—and to make decisions for her professional future. Time to privately commemorate the loss of an unborn life. This use-it-or-lose-it vacation forced on her at the end of the year couldn’t be better timed. But the introspective hours she craved could too easily be aborted if she didn’t guard them closely.

“Thanks for the invitation, but I have to get back to...” His uncertain gaze darted to hers as his voice trailed off.

What was with him tonight? Garrett in his youth had never been one to act unsure of himself or beat around the bush. “Get back to what? Your female fan club?”

Everything used to come easy to him. Athletics, schoolwork, making friends—and girlfriends. She used to give him a hard time about the latter, masking her own supersized crush.

His mouth twitched. “Believe me, no fan club these days. Actually, I need to get back to the church.”

“Picking up another load of wood for delivery?”

“Not exactly.” He cast a look upward as if appealing to the Heavenly realms. “I have to finish my sermon for tomorrow.”

“Sermon?” She laughed, Grady’s remark finally making sense. “You got roped into delivering a message at the old family church, didn’t you? Garrett, whatever were you thinking?”

He ducked his head slightly, then looked up at her with one eye squinted. “I’m thinking that as the pastor of Christ’s Church of Hunter Ridge, that’s one of my responsibilities.”

What? “Come on, tell me another one.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “As impossible as it may sound—and believe me, some days it probably seems more impossible to me than it does to you—I’m degreed in church ministry and have been interim pastor here for the past year.”

She stared. He wasn’t joking. His cousin hadn’t been joking.

“Wow, Garrett.”

He chuckled, no doubt in reaction to the stunned look on her face. “Yeah, wow.”

“This is...is quite a stretch. I mean,” she quickly amended, “a turnaround.”

As they’d progressed from Sunday school days to youth group teen years, he’d become increasingly restless, adventurous, more prone to risk-taking. A party boy who’d enthusiastically indulged a wild streak, he’d certainly never anchored himself to anything spiritual, let alone God.

But then, she couldn’t exactly point fingers...

“Which goes to prove—” his smile widened “—that God’s still in the business of transforming lives.”

“When did— How?” She never would have expected anything like this. Not in a million years.

He shrugged. “Looking back, God’s been dogging me at least since my first rafting trip on the Colorado when He really opened my eyes to the beauty and intricacy of His creation. Unfortunately, I wasn’t willing to listen until about five years ago.”

He was serious. This was for real.

“I’m sorry I laughed, Garrett. I was just so—”

“Shocked? Don’t feel bad. My family, except for Mom and Grandma Jo, still isn’t quite sure what to make of it. Some church members who knew ‘the me that was’ haven’t bought into it, either.”

She couldn’t help but continue to stare at him. “This is amazing.”

“That it is.” He took a step back. “As usual, though, time’s gotten away from me this week and my Sunday message awaits. But maybe we could get together while you’re in town. Catch up.”

She didn’t want to catch anybody up on her life outside Hunter Ridge. Things she wasn’t proud of. Wounds that had yet to heal. A faith that was currently so wobbly it wasn’t funny. “Let’s see how it goes, okay? There’s lots to do to get this place ready to sell.”

“You’ll be at the worship service tomorrow?”

Not eager to interact with those who might remember her—or to see young mothers with their precious little ones—she hadn’t planned to go. But having laughed at him, expressed such blatant disbelief, might Garrett take a refusal the wrong way?

“You can count on it.”

“See you there then.” Eyes smiling, he lifted his hand in a parting wave as he stepped off the side porch. “Ten thirty.”

A few strides away, he halted in his tracks as if he’d thought of something he’d forgotten to say. Maybe he wanted to offer her a ride to church? Then apparently changing his mind, he tramped on through the falling snow.

Almost dazed, she stood at the door watching as he disappeared into the darkness. Garrett McCrae. A pastor. A heavy weight settled into the region of her heart as she closed and bolted the door.

Sorry to point this out, Lord, but your timing stinks.

She’d barely turned off the porch light and entered the kitchen when the door rattled from a firm pounding knock.

When she turned on the light and reopened the door, there stood Garrett once again.

“What did you forget?”

“Actually...” He paused as though undecided as to how to proceed. Totally un-Garrett-like. Then he plunged on. “I need to ask you something.”

Oh, please, don’t say anything about that night. The night he’d made it clear his little tomboy pal didn’t meet his standards for female companionship.

“I know you have to get this place cleaned up, but what if I helped? Recruited others to help?” His gaze now met hers in open appeal. “Do you think, then, that you might have time to oversee a church Christmas project while you’re here?”

Was he kidding?

“I don’t think there’s much left to do,” he hurried on, “but my office assistant who stays on top of it all year had a family emergency and can’t follow through. All afternoon I beat the bushes to find a replacement, but came up empty-handed. Unless things have changed, though, you have more organizational ability in your little finger than most have in their whole body.”

He gazed at her with hopeful eyes as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

“You want me to take on a church project while I’m here?”

“Oversee it. You wouldn’t have to do all the work. I imagine Melody has it well in hand. But none of the other volunteers feel confident in assuming the responsibility.”

“To be honest, Garrett, I don’t think I would either.” No way did she want to be sucked into something like 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, a teenage Garrett had mistaken Moppert’s place for that of a friend next door.

“I didn’t rearrange. I shifted the lectern and the Lord’s Supper table slightly off-center so there’s room for the kids’ choir. They’re kicking off our service with ‘Away in a Manger.’”

“Well, he doesn’t like it. I overheard him telling one of the board members that you’re taking liberties in God’s house.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Better you than me.” Luke grimaced, then glanced with interest toward the parking lot. “Who’s that with the Palmers?”

Following the trajectory of his cousin’s gaze, Garrett’s heart rate kicked up a notch at the sight of a pretty woman, her red-gold hair flowing around her shoulders as she exited a vehicle. The Palmers must have seen Jodi walking into town and picked her up.

Which was another thing nagging at him.

Last night he’d said he hoped to see her at church, but although grateful for her taking on the project and aware she didn’t have transportation, he hadn’t offered any.

The church where he’d done a semester’s internship had strict guidelines on staff interactions with members of the opposite sex, and he’d instinctively maintained those standards as much as possible when he’d come to Hunter Ridge—even if their rules were more lenient. Which is why he hadn’t accepted Jodi’s invitation to join her inside for cocoa. But he could have at least drummed up a ride for her.

She looked amazing this morning, her fair cheeks rosy from the cold and a bright smile rivaling the warmth of the morning’s welcome sun. Then there was that eye-catching, begging-to-be-touched long hair that as a kid her folks kept cropped up by her ears. Not for the first time, he whispered a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t be in town long. Although many times a partner in his schemes when they were kids, she’d increasingly balked when he took his risk-taking tendencies to the extreme. No doubt she’d be unsurprised that those inclinations had finally caught up with him—and he was paying the price.

“Garrett? I said—”

“That’s Jodi Thorpe,” Garrett quickly responded, his face warming at Luke’s curious look. Had anyone else noticed him gaping at the newcomer? Not recommended ministerial manners. “She used to spend summers up here. Sometimes Thanksgiving or Christmas. You may not remember her. She’d have only been about seven or eight when you left for the military.”

“Thanks for the reminder of my old age.” Although still on the sunny side of forty with a wife ten years his junior, Luke gave him a mild look of reprimand. “I don’t remember a Jodi, but I do remember the last name. Grandma Jo was good friends with a Nadene Thorpe. This is a granddaughter?”

“Right. Hey, look, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Maybe he could make amends for not arranging transportation for Jodi. “I’m going to welcome her to Christ’s Church.”

Luke leaned in. “You do that, flirt master, but don’t forget you have a million eyes on you right now. Until you hear otherwise, you’re still in the running for a full-time position here. Don’t blow it.”

Luke’s warning was unnecessary. Not only did he have God looking over his shoulder, but he was acutely conscious of how closely a single pastor was watched—and judged. Good impressions were especially important right now, even though, unknown to those around him, he had no intention of staying in Hunter Ridge, job offer or no job offer.

“No worries,” he assured Luke as his gaze drifted back to the subject in question. “As a kid, that gal over there could shinny up a tree faster than lightning and nail a can with a slingshot better than I could. She once caught me off guard and pinned me down, too. Filled my mouth with a handful of dirt. Believe me, recollections like that kinda put a damper on any flirting business.”

Or they would, anyway, if he could forget how sweet it had been to kiss her.

Chapter Three

Jodi had barely drawn back from giving a big thank-you hug to Marisela Palmer—one of her grandma’s dear friends—when Garrett approached.

Or rather, Pastor McCrae.

Unbelievable.

It was with a sense of relief, though, that the guy she’d known since the summer before first grade hadn’t let himself be shoehorned into a suit for his Sunday morning duties. Rather, he had on a pair of neatly pressed gray trousers, a white collared shirt, and a gray pullover sweater. No outer jacket despite the chilly morning.

She couldn’t resist firing the first volley. “What happened to your tie, Pastor?”

His hand flew to his neck as he looked frantically on the ground around him. “It was there a minute ago.”

“I think Jodi’s teasing you, Garrett. Just like old times.” Marisela, a petite black woman who looked at least a decade younger than Jodi knew her to be, looped her arm through his as she gazed up at him with affection. “I spied her coming out of Nadene’s cabin this morning—a delightful surprise—and we gave her a ride. She tells me she had no idea until last night that you’ve been our minister this past year.”

He patted Marisela’s hand, but his amused gaze held Jodi’s. “It looks as if she sufficiently recovered from the shock since she managed to get herself here on time this morning.”

Garrett would have to remember that Grandma practically had to dynamite her out of bed, and often she’d dragged herself to the breakfast table still in her pajamas.

Before Jodi could make a snappy response, a pretty brunette with two small children in tow paused next to Garrett. Bundled against the cold, the faux fur–trimmed hood of the woman’s burgundy coat framed a heart-shaped face and long-lashed dark eyes. She looked up at him expectantly, as if assuming introductions would be made.

Jodi’s heart jolted. His wife and kids? Right before turning off the bedside lamp last night, she’d realized Garrett hadn’t clarified a marital status. But a quick glance at both his and the woman’s ungloved—and ringless—hands put the question to rest. So Garrett was single and still playing the field, although aspects of that part of his life would certainly have made a U-turn, as well.

His gaze flickered to the newcomer. “Sofia, you know Marisela. But I’d like you to meet Jodi Thorpe. Our grandmothers were good friends. Jodi, this is Sofia Ramos and her daughter Tiana.”

He placed a hand affectionately on the head of the black-haired little girl next to him. “Her little brother is Leon.”

While early grade schooler Tiana smiled shyly, Leon, appearing to be about three, paid Jodi no attention as he tugged at his mother’s coat, eager to be on his way.

“It’s good to meet you.” Jodi shook Sofia’s offered hand.

“Are you visiting for the holidays, Jodi?”

“My folks are selling my grandparents’ cabin, so I’m here to get it ready to put on the market.” That response seemed to satisfy everyone.

“Such a shame to sell the place.” Marisela shook her head. “But while they keep the utilities turned on and things in good repair, your folks haven’t been up here at all this year.”

Garrett looked down at his watch and made a face.

“Oops. Showtime. Children’s choir has the opening number.” He held out a hand to each child. “Kiddos? Let’s get you in there for your moment in the spotlight—all set for your mama’s ever-ready camera if she can sneak off the piano bench for a few shots.”

Both giggling children willingly grasped a hand and trotted up the front steps beside him, evidently comfortable in the man’s presence. Which again made Jodi wonder about his relationship with their mother.

Mr. and Mrs. Palmer invited her to sit with them, and it was with a mix of nostalgia and a sense of time too quickly passing that she spied a few now-older yet familiar faces—including Garrett’s spunky Grandma Jo, who came over to warmly welcome her.

Much of the service was a blur as youthful memories assailed. Sunshine streaming through the stained glass windows illuminated the red velvet bows on each pew, and the familiar scent of furniture oil tickled memories. Remembrances of squirming on a hard pew at her grandmother’s side vividly filled her mind, as did later instances of covertly watching a restless, teenage Garrett sitting with his buddies.