Читать книгу Home to Safe Harbor - Kate Welsh - Страница 10

Reverend Justine Clemens stood frozen before the entire congregation of First Peninsula Church, managing to hold a smile in place through sheer determination. In her hands, she held the plaque she’d just accepted amid thunderous applause. Clearly, everyone thought she should be thrilled.

They were certainly thrilled.

But she was devastated.

The sign on her new office door would not read “Reverend Justine Clemens—Assistant Pastor.” That’s what she’d thought Reverend Burns and the board meant when they’d asked her to stay on permanently to assist him. Instead the plaque she now held tightly clutched in her hands read “Reverend Justine Clemens—Women and Youth Pastor.”

Once again she’d been relegated to a traditional role for women in the church. Once again she was on the road to having no one and nothing to call her own.

When Reverend Burns retired—and at seventy, how far off could that be?—she’d thought these people would be her flock. That they would look to her for guidance. Be her family. How could she have so completely misunderstood this position? Had it been wishful thinking? Self delusion?

The corners of the brass plaque bit into her hands and she managed to relax her trembling grip just a little. But, as she did, she also had to blink back the tears that threatened to give her away. Reverend Burns had just handed her what he clearly thought of as first prize, but she knew it to be the honorable mention it was.

He stood next to her at the front of the church, smiling and looking more like a man of sixty these days. When she’d visited him following his first knee surgery last March he’d looked all of his seventy years plus a few.

“There’s been a lot of speculation that I’m ready for long days fishing or even quieter days reading my worn and ragged Bible,” Reverend Thomas Burns told his congregation, that precious book held lovingly in his hand. “Well, I’m here to tell you I’ve never felt younger.” He smiled fondly down from the top step of the altar and used his other hand to pat his rapidly thinning girth. “It’s a miracle what new knees and exercise will do for a body.” He chuckled. “Mine, anyway.”

At a sudden clearing of Dr. Robert Maguire’s throat, scattered chuckles echoed through the sanctuary. Reverend Burns blushed a bit. “I know. I know,” he said pointing at the doctor. “You’ve been telling me this for years. And you were right. To be honest with all of you, I had considered retiring. During my enforced downtime, though, I found out rather quickly that I’d go loopy if I did. And I don’t think the Lord would be happy with a man in his prime hanging up his robes.” Reverend Burns moved closer to Justine, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Well, now, enough about me. Back to the reason I asked the board to hire Reverend Clemens in this new capacity. For a long time I’ve been feeling out of touch with some of you. So when I noticed how well Justine was able to relate to the younger women and teens, it seemed best for everyone to bring her on board permanently as pastor to the women and youth of First Peninsula Church.

“I also want to thank you all for making my young friend feel welcome and for proving Thomas Wolfe wrong. You really can go home again, and we’re all glad she’s come back to us. The ladies of the Safe Harbor Women’s League have put together a little luncheon to officially welcome Reverend Clemens. Won’t you join us in the church hall?”

Justine blindly followed Reverend Burns out of the sanctuary and down the steps that led to the first-floor basement and the church hall. The morning light streamed through the high arched windows and fell on the mural the church’s administrative assistant, Kit Peters, had recently done on the side wall. Justine felt a little peace descend on her troubled soul as she gazed at the pastoral scene of trees and rolling hills and the distant flock of sheep tended by a gentle-eyed Jesus.

There was a lot of activity and laughter in the kitchen at the far end of the room, where an array of beverages was already set out on the stainless-steel counter between the hall and kitchen. Folding tables and chairs were scattered around the highly polished hardwood floor. A giant banner stretched above the kitchen pass-through read Welcome Home to Safe Harbor.

Of course, she’d been back in Safe Harbor for six months. She’d returned to her hometown for the first time in ten years to answer a call for help from Reverend Burns—a call that couldn’t have come at a better time. The day before he’d contacted her asking her to fill in for him, she’d gotten upsetting news. The inner-city Chicago church where she’d served since divinity school had decided to hire a much younger and less experienced minister—a man—to replace the retiring pastor. What had distressed her the most was that the recommendation had come from the pastor to whom she’d been an assistant for ten years.

She had been hurt and seeking God’s guidance when Reverend Burns called asking for her help. She’d talked to him earlier in the week and he’d mentioned the possibility of needing surgery, but then he’d fallen while trying to help in the search for one of Holly Douglas’s five-year-old twin boys. Little Aidan had gotten lost on the nature trails in a sudden early-March snowstorm. Aidan was found, and the accident had seemed an answer to prayers, for Justine as well as for Reverend Burns. It had given her the chance to gain perspective and to rediscover the peace and love of her hometown.

She loved Reverend Burns like a father. Certainly more than she did her own faithless father. The reverend had led her to the Lord in her rebellious youth, and his kindly guidance had influenced her to pursue a vocation in ministry. But now, standing at what was supposed to be a celebration of her new position, Justine felt only hurt and disappointed by her mentor and friend. Following his lead, she took off her robe and hung it in the closet, still hiding her inner turmoil.

What are you telling me, Lord?

The hall filled quickly and everyone was in the mood to celebrate. Everyone but Justine. She somehow managed to keep a bright face on, as one after another, members of the congregation stopped to congratulate her on her new position.

“You’re upset,” Reverend Burns said when he returned to her side about half an hour later with coffee for them. His brows were drawn together in a worried frown.

Justine started and felt a blush heat her face. If he knew, did everyone know?

“Relax. I doubt anyone else noticed, but I know you too well to be fooled by that pasted-on smile. What is it, dear?”

Justine had never been able to hide the truth from Reverend Burns, not from that first day he’d caught her cutting school and enjoying a cigarette behind the gazebo in Safe Harbor Park with her new friends.

“I thought you asked me to stay on to be your assistant.”

Reverend Burns’s eyebrows climbed, further laddering his lined forehead. “That’s exactly what you will be.”

Justine turned the plaque she still held toward him. “But it’s a ministry limited to women and children.”

The older man sighed, shaking his head slightly. “You’re still seeing the glass half-empty, Justine. You are an absolute wonder with the teens and younger women, not to mention the little ones. You relate to them in a way I find I no longer can. They make up a good portion of the congregation. I want them going to you for help. You can do a lot of good.”

She was embarrassed by what sounded like selfish motives. “I feel as if it’s happening again.” The words tumbled out. “I thought I was being put in position to take your place one day. And I know you and the board wouldn’t have limited the scope of my ministry if you had confidence in me that I could replace you. It feels like Chicago all over again.”

“But it isn’t the same, and we do have confidence in you,” Reverend Burns said gently. “Don’t let the human failings of some of God’s servants take your eyes and trust off Him. And seek His plan for your life, dear, not your own. I very much fear that is what you’ve been doing all along.” He held up his hand to stop her automatic defense. “I’m not saying your call to the ministry wasn’t real. I’m saying that maybe He has something for you that you’re blind to. I don’t know what His plan is, but for now, why not do the job He’s sent you and see what comes of it?”

Justine nodded jerkily, trying to hold back the emotions that surged in her. She could see the wisdom in his words, but following his advice would be a challenge.

“Excuse me, Reverend Clemens. Reverend Burns.” A deep voice interrupted her struggle for composure. “I wonder if I might have a word with you before the kids descend on us.”

Past hurts and new ones flew out of Justine’s mind when she followed the sound of that husky voice to a point just over her head.

It was him.

At five foot ten, she wasn’t used to looking up at many people. At least, not as far as she had to look up right now. She found herself snared by eyes an even deeper brown than her own. They were nearly obsidian.

For weeks she’d seen Matthew Trent around town and in church, and now she had a voice to put with that hauntingly handsome face. A dangerous combination of tall, dark and gorgeous, he was the new chief of police, and he distracted Justine every time she noticed him. Once, even in the middle of a sermon!

No man had ever affected her the way he did. No man had ever taken her eyes off her ministry, or made her heart pump harder with the simple sound of his voice. She watched as Reverend Burns turned to him with a friendly smile.

“Chief Trent, what can we do for you?”

“Actually, I wondered if one or both of you might be able to give me a little advice regarding a sixteen-year-old and trouble.”

Reverend Burns held up his hand. “No time like the present to bow to the younger generation. I’ll leave you to Justine’s wisdom. There’s a reason we hired her and this is it.”

“But you know I still rely on your guidance,” she protested, slightly alarmed at the thought of being alone with Matthew Trent. Justine took a fortifying breath, trying to still her pounding heart. What was wrong with her? They were in a room with more than a hundred people. Instead of protesting further, she forced a smile and nodded toward some empty tables in the far corner of the reception room.

“Would you mind sitting, Chief Trent?” she asked, hoping that with a table between her and the former FBI agent she would feel less distracted and intimidated by him. Calm and cool, he clearly didn’t experience any of the terrifying feelings in her presence that she felt in his.

“Please. Make it Matt,” he said, and moved toward the nearest empty table.

She was tempted not to respond in kind, wanting the distance her ministerial title gave her, but she knew that wouldn’t be right. Trying to ignore Matthew Trent’s blatant masculinity, Justine followed him to the table he’d chosen.

“Is this okay, Reverend Clemens?” He pulled out a chair for her at a table away from the others. “I don’t want anyone to overhear and guess who we’re talking about.”

She smiled at that. Did he really think she didn’t already know who the misdirected teen was? “Call me Justine and tell me what Alan Tobridge has done now.”

He grimaced. “Am I that obvious?”

“No. But Alan is.” Justine grinned. “Unfortunately, I can relate to exactly what he’s going through. You haven’t been here very long, but you’ll eventually hear about my own rebellious years.”

Matt chuckled. “What did you do? Cover your bible in bright purple? Wear red to church?”

Justine tried to ignore the tingle the low timber of his quiet laughter chased along her spine. “No,” she said, distracted and strangely drawn to this man who was so concerned for someone else’s child. “But I do remember having red and purple liberty spikes once upon a time.”

“Liberty spikes?”

She grinned, suddenly relishing the opportunity to burst his stereotype bubble, though she usually cringed at talk of her turbulent youth. “First you take white glue, then you grab sections of hair…” She pulled a piece of hair straight out to the side to illustrate. Grinning, she tilted her head, leaving a long silence.

He broke it with a groan. “How could you say something like that to a man raising three daughters all by himself? I mean, you’re a minister. If you pulled stunts like that, I’m doomed.”

She’d observed him with his daughters. It was easy to see the love and affection within his family. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. What I’m getting at is, I think Alan and I have a few things in common. My mother forgot I was alive most of the time.” Justine let her gaze survey the party before making eye contact with Matthew Trent. “Arlene and Jeffrey Tobridge aren’t bad people, but they’ve bought heavily into relative morality. They let Alan do whatever he wants. If it feels good, it’s okay. When he makes bad choices, they go to bat for him to get him out of trouble. My kid, right or wrong.”

Matthew nodded. “I don’t think he’s a bad kid. I think he’s trying to get their attention and their love. When they came to the station last night to pick him up, you could almost see the kid begging them to say they couldn’t condone his behavior. But they have every intention of having the flower beds he destroyed up at the Lighthouse B & B replaced professionally. They’ve also offered to pay for the bracelet he walked off with from The Quest last week. Plus they’ve already arranged to have the library cleaned after he let that skunk loose in there.”

Matt sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. “I know Judge Howard is going to go along with more parental restitution. And it isn’t going to stop the way Alan’s acting out. Charles Creasy held the parents responsible when he had my job and the judge always agreed with him. In a way they are, but— I don’t even know why I’m bothering you about this.” He frowned looking troubled. “Yes, I do. Do you have any idea how I stop this kid? Somebody’s going to get hurt and he’s going to ruin his life trying to prove his parents really do love him. What got you out of liberty spikes?”

Justine’s eyes were on the senior pastor as he chatted with an engaged couple, and she smiled. “Reverend Burns talked me out of my spikes and into the church. He convinced me I was only hurting myself—and I was. Nobody suffered but me if I skipped school, or dyed my hair some outrageous color, or smoked or stayed out all night. As I said, my mother barely knew I was around. But Alan is hurting others in trying to get his parents to put the brakes on his antics. I tried stopping him on the street after the library incident, but it was no go.” She leaned forward. “So I have another idea. Unfortunately, you’d have to supervise him, and I’d need to get Russ and Annie Mitchard to agree. After all, he hurt them when he stole the bracelet from Russ’s shop and destroyed Annie’s beautiful flower beds. I think Alan needs to see how his actions affect his victims by working off his debts to them.” She relaxed against the back of her chair. “The Mitchards’ feelings need to be taken into account, though. They may not want to deal with him.”

Matthew Trent’s eyes widened and he nodded. “What an insightful idea. I have no problem supervising the kid, but who’s going to talk Judge Howard into this?”

Justine pointed toward Reverend Burns and said conspiratorially. “The judge’s godfather, our pastor.”

Matthew’s mouth kicked up on one side in an endearing grin, just as all the children thundered into the hall with their teachers. “Daddy,” a cherub-cheeked five-year-old girl shouted and ran to Matthew. Her cap of curly chestnut-brown hair and dark eyes mirrored those of her adoring father.

“Hi, kitten,” he said, standing and swinging the little girl up high into his arms.

Justine found it hard to look at them together. There were times she wished she had the courage to take a chance on love and a family, but those things were not for her. She couldn’t be a pastor and a mother. Leading a church was too demanding. It wouldn’t be fair to the children. And besides that, she couldn’t be a mother without first being a wife, and she’d never trust any man with her heart. She’d watched firsthand what could happen to a woman who loved and lost. Especially when the man appeared to be all that was brave, heroic and trustworthy. It only hurt more to be betrayed by the likes of a George Clemens. Or a Matthew Trent.