Читать книгу A Baby For The Minister - Laurel Blount - Страница 13

Chapter Two

“Could you give me a ride?” Natalie asked. “My car wouldn’t start this morning. Adam had to drive to the motel to pick me up.” Her poor old car had rattled all the way here from Atlanta, and she’d prayed every mile that it wouldn’t strand her on the side of the road.

It hadn’t, but it had sure been as dead as a rock this morning.

“Absolutely.” The pastor spoke firmly. “I’ll take you anyplace you want to go.”

“Thank you.” She offered him the brightest smile she could manage. It must not have been very convincing because that sympathy crinkled around his eyes again.

He gathered up her overnight case and tucked her Bible under his arm. “My truck is just outside.”

Pastor Stone asked her to wait in the hallway while he had a quick word with the group of people lingering in the sanctuary. Natalie kept her gaze on the floor, but she could feel their curious looks. She was glad when the minister came back and led the way out the big front doors of the church into the drizzly afternoon. To her surprise, he veered toward a battered blue pickup and opened the passenger side door.

This old beater didn’t look much better than her car. It sure wasn’t the kind of vehicle she’d expect a minister to drive, but it obediently rumbled to life when he twisted the key.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and held it out to her. “That dress looks thin. You’ve got to be cold, and it’ll take the truck a few minutes to warm up. This weather is weird for April, isn’t it? Usually we’re all running our air conditioners by now, but this year winter just keeps hanging on.”

She hesitated, but he was right. She was freezing. She took his jacket, tucking it over herself like a blanket. The warm satiny lining felt comforting against her chill-bumped arms, and it smelled like the soap she’d noticed earlier.

He raised his eyebrows. “So, where can I take you?”

“405 Chinaberry Road.” She’d been reciting that address over and over to herself ever since Cora had first told her about the farm. “Do you know where that is?”

“Sure.” The minister leaned back in the seat of the rumbling truck, looking confused. “That’s the old Lark Hill farm. Why do you want to go out there?”

“Adam’s grandmother is letting me stay there until...for the time being.” He was frowning, and she felt a warning tickle along her arms that had nothing to do with the cold. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just...has Mrs. Larkey seen the place lately?”

“I’m not sure, but she said Adam’s been staying there for the past week. Why?”

“Nobody’s lived at Lark Hill in the five years I’ve been in Pine Valley. Last time I drove by, it was looking pretty run-down. In your condition...” He hesitated.

Was that all? That was nothing. She’d stayed in plenty of places that made run-down look good. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not a very fancy person, Pastor Stone.”

He hesitated a second, then shrugged. “I guess we can at least go take a look.” He shifted the truck into gear and headed out of the parking lot. “And you can call me Jacob. Everybody does.” He offered her a sideways glance and a smile. “I’m not a very fancy person, either.”

Natalie nodded and adjusted the seat belt across her baby bump. Riding in a car was so uncomfortable these days. Then again, everything was.

The preacher shot her an apologetic look. “It’s going to be about a ten-minute drive. Lark Hill’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere.”

The middle of nowhere. In spite of everything, Natalie’s lips curved into a smile. She’d lived in overcrowded housing projects all her life.

The middle of nowhere sounded wonderful.

Adam just had to show up and go through with their wedding. Cora had made herself very clear. No marriage, no farm.

No future.

Natalie turned her face toward the window and squeezed her eyes shut. Please, Lord. You know I can’t provide a good life for this baby all by myself. Please, let Adam come back.

A few minutes later, Jacob slowed and put on his turn signal, although as far as Natalie could see, there wasn’t another car for miles.

“Here we are,” he said. A tilted sign announced Lark Hill Farm in weather-beaten blue paint. The faded silhouette of a bird perched on the bar of the H, its beak lifted in a silent song.

Natalie winced as the pickup bumped over the ruts of the overgrown driveway, but she forgot her physical misery when she caught her first glimpse of the farmhouse. Her heart sped up as she gazed at the view through the smudged windshield.

This place was just perfect.

* * *

This place was just awful.

Jacob slowed the truck to a gentle stop, but he didn’t bother to turn off the engine. There was no way they’d be staying here for very long. He’d been polite when he’d described the old farm as run-down.

It was a dump.

The tiny one-story farmhouse was covered in peeling white paint. A couple of scraggly chickens were scratching in the dead leaves littering its sagging porch. Beyond the house was a gray rough-lumber barn that had half collapsed. A makeshift fence had been attached to the part that was still standing, and an animal with a multicolored coat and large curved horns peered curiously through the rusty wires.

Natalie pointed. “What’s that?”

Jacob’s heart sank to his toes, along with his general opinion of humanity. “That’s Rufus. What’s he doing here?”

“What’s a Rufus?”

“The most troublesome billy goat in four counties.” Jacob shook his head. “No telling who stuck Adam with him. That animal’s been passed around more than the common cold. Nobody keeps him for long.”

Natalie leaned forward in her seat, peering through the window. “The poor thing. He doesn’t look mean.”

“He’s not. He’s just...irritating. And there’s not a fence made that can hold him.”

He heard a click and turned to see that Natalie had shrugged off his coat and was unsnapping her seat belt.

“Whoa.” Without thinking, he leaned over and caught her hand as she reached for the door lever. It felt small and chilly in his. “What are you doing?”

She stared at him. “I’m going to look around.”

Jacob hesitated, but she seemed pretty determined. “All right. But wait there. I’ll come around and walk with you. There’s junk all over this yard, and you don’t want to fall.”

She already had her door open, but she stopped, looking surprised. “Oh! Okay. Thank you.”

He came around and helped her out of the truck. “Take my arm.” Without waiting for her answer, he took her right hand in his and placed his other arm around her waist. In spite of her pregnancy, she felt as fragile as a bird. They walked slowly toward the house, the hem of her light dress fluttering in the fitful breeze.

When they reached the porch, he halted. “These steps look pretty rickety.” He tested the bottom one. It groaned but didn’t break.

“They seem fine.” She started to move forward, but he stopped her gently.

“Let me go first.” He definitely didn’t need a pregnant lady crashing through some rotten board. He edged in front of her, bouncing on the remaining steps before allowing Natalie to put her weight on them. The old boards protested, but they held together.

As he led her through the leaves toward the front door, he heard a quiet sniffle. He glanced back to catch Natalie swiping a tear off her cheek.

He’d been expecting this ever since he’d told her about Adam.

“Are you okay?” He regretted his choice of words the minute they were out of his mouth. Stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay.

She shook her head and managed a wobbly smile. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m fine. Really. It’s just...”

As he watched her struggle for words, his heart swelled with sympathy. First the wedding disappointment and now this disaster of a house. He waited, praying for the ability to help her cope with whatever feelings she managed to get out. “It’s okay, Natalie. Go ahead and say whatever you need to say. Yell if you want to. After the day you’ve had, I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”

“No, it’s not that.” She sputtered a teary little laugh and dabbed at her eyes again. “It’s just...you’re being so nice to me, holding my arm and walking me up on the porch and all. Don’t mind me. I cry about all sorts of stupid stuff these days. Hormones, I guess.” She gave him a trembling smile. “Wait just a minute. I put the house key in my purse.”

Jacob didn’t smile back. He stood silently on the sagging porch, watching the wind tease strands of Natalie’s hair loose as she searched for the key.

He was usually pretty quick with words, but right now, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. After all Natalie had been through today, that was what finally made her cry? The fact that he wouldn’t let a pregnant woman walk on a half-rotten porch without checking it first?

What kind of life had this woman led?

I don’t have much family. When Natalie had made that quiet admission back at the church, he’d felt a surge of compassion so strong that it had surprised him. He’d always been a sucker for people in trouble, but he hadn’t wanted to help somebody this badly in a long, long time.

He didn’t have much family either, and he knew firsthand how tough that could be. But, of course, loneliness wasn’t the only thing he and Natalie Davis had in common.

Not by a long shot.

The instant he’d caught sight of Natalie’s pregnant profile, he’d known. None of this was accidental. It couldn’t be. Of all the ministers in the surrounding area, as far as he knew, he was the only one who knew firsthand what it was like to struggle with an out-of-wedlock pregnancy.

This situation had God’s fingerprints all over it.

The mistakes Jacob had made before he’d become a Christian still broke his heart, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about them. But he could certainly do something about this.

“I’m going to help you.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she answered him.

“Well, okay. Thanks.” She handed him a long metal key. “It looks really old. I hope it works.”

She thought he meant help with the antique lock. He accepted the key automatically and turned to the door, glad to have something to do until he could think straight again.

The lock was tarnished and flecked with decades of old paint, but the key turned easily enough. He pushed the door open, and a puff of musty air brushed their faces.

The door opened into a small rectangular living room. Dust flurried in the weak sunlight coming through the generous windows, and furry gray cobwebs dangled from the bead board ceiling.

The room looked like it had been furnished by somebody’s maiden aunt. There was a beige camelback sofa and two drab olive armchairs, all sporting fussy lace circlets on their arms and backs. A couple of spindly legged tables laden with dusty knickknacks were angled in the corners.

“Oh my,” Natalie breathed beside him, poking her head in to get a better view. He glanced down and was surprised by the rapt expression on her face. He’d expected a wrinkled nose, but she didn’t seem put off at all.

He frowned and took a second look at the room. Maybe it did have a certain appeal to it.

If you didn’t have a dust allergy.

Natalie edged past him into the house and touched one of the lace doilies with a gentle finger. “It’s like stepping back in time, isn’t it?” She opened a nearby door and disappeared into the adjoining room.

“Watch your step, now.” Jacob warned as he followed her. He hoped the rest of this place was sturdier than that porch.

The house was tiny, so their tour didn’t take long. They passed through two small bedrooms furnished with iron beds and discovered a bathroom complete with a stained claw-foot tub. When Natalie paused to twist a faucet on the pedestal sink, a stream of clear water ran into the grubby basin. She glanced up at him, smiling.

“This water doesn’t smell all chemically like the water back in Atlanta.”

“This far out of town, it would have to be well water. No chlorine.” He hadn’t seen Natalie Davis really smile until now. He’d thought she was a nice-looking woman before, but with that happy expression on her face, she was downright beautiful.

The smile lingered on her lips as she pushed open the last door. It led them into the kitchen.

Natalie halted on the threshold. “Oh!”

Jacob took in the sight in front of them, and his lips tightened. No wonder she didn’t want to go any farther. The other rooms hadn’t been very clean, but this one took dirty to a whole new level.

Once upon a time, somebody had painted the kitchen walls a light yellow, but the cheery paint was filmed over with a thick layer of dust. Dingy white curtains embroidered with trios of red cherries hung limply at the windows. A small red-and-white enameled table, its surface covered with food wrappers, sat in the middle of a scabby linoleum floor. A generous double-basined sink was positioned underneath the window, flanked by old-fashioned metal cabinets. A boxy gas stove with two ovens hunkered in one corner, and an elderly refrigerator chugged next to it.

Every available surface was littered with trash. If Adam Larkey had gone through with his wedding, this was what he’d have brought his pregnant bride home to? After what had happened back at the church, Jacob hadn’t thought his opinion of the guy could drop much lower.

He’d been wrong.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” he said quietly. “I’ll drive you back to town.”

Natalie didn’t answer. She was standing with her eyes closed, her whole body tensed. One hand was clutching the door frame, clenching down so hard that her knuckles were white.

“Natalie?” He wasn’t sure what was happening, but from the look on her face, it couldn’t be good.

“Contraction,” she whispered.