Courting Hope Page 14

  Great. Hope briefly closed her eyes. She didn’t need a protective big brother right now.

  “This keeps getting better and better,” Hope muttered.

  Shannon smiled. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  By the time she climbed on the bus and sat down, Hope wanted to fade into the green vinyl.

  When Sinclair stepped down the aisle, he slipped in next to her. Giving her a weak smile, he wrapped his hand around hers. “It’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t know how he could say that in light of their terrific lack of judgment. He was the pastor, and she worked for him. The board was bound to disapprove when they found out.

  The kids continued singing that stupid song.

  She jerked her head behind them. “Maybe you should sit back there and keep them quiet.”

  He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Now that I’m sitting down, I’ll be fine.”

  He gave her an odd look.

  She tried for some levity. “My legs are overcooked spaghetti.”

  He smiled. “Nice side effect.”

  The kids clapped when Sinclair joined them and proceeded to tease him about when they were getting married.

  Hope’s stomach turned over again. “Okay, knock it off,” Sinclair growled.

  Hope didn’t dare slide down in her seat, but oh, how she wanted to.

  “Let this be a lesson to each of you. Think twice before kissing in public.”

  The kids laughed, and Hope gripped her temples.

  Another kiss made into a joke!

  * * *

  He’d blown it again.

  Once back at the church parking lot, Sinclair watched Hope dash for her car minutes after saying good-bye to the group. Why couldn’t he have waited until they were alone, on a real date? He might have jeopardized that, too.

  Jake had had every right to lecture him about putting Hope in this embarrassing position. To his credit, Jake worried more about Hope’s feelings than the example they’d failed to provide the youth group. Sinclair had damage control to do, which meant talking to each of these kids’ parents.

  Raking his fingers through his hair, Sinclair took a deep breath and approached the car belonging to the most busybody of all church gossips.

  Mary Stillwell.

  “Jeremy, can you give me a minute with your mom?” Draping his arm on the roof of the champagne-colored sedan, Sinclair leaned down to talk to Mary.

  “You gonna kiss her, too?” Jeremy snickered.

  “Cool it, buddy. Wait by Jake until I’m done here.” He glanced at Mary, whose eyes had gone round as bus tires. He’d just yelled at her boy.

  “What’s this all about, Pastor?”

  Sinclair didn’t miss the emphasis she placed on his title. The Stillwells had a way of making him feel like he was playing church. And not very well.

  “Tonight at the festival...” This was like confessing before a school principal. “The kids saw me kiss Hope Petersen. I wanted to let you know before things got blown out of proportion.”

  Mary surprised him with a smile that said he’d finally done something smart instead of stupid. “I didn’t know you two were dating.”

  “We’re not.” Sinclair realized how bad that must sound. “I mean, not yet.”

  Mary’s eyes hardened. “Well, for Hope’s sake, I hope you figure it out.” She craned her neck and hollered. “Jeremy, get in the car!”

  Sinclair stepped back. He’d only made matters worse with that botched confession. Looking around the parking lot, dread skittered up his spine. He’d messed up good by not following the right order of things, and no doubt the board would hear about it. Everyone would hear about it.

  He ran a hand through his hair, wanting to pull some of it out. Under his breath he chanted, “One parent down, several more to go.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Aren’t you going to work?” Hope’s mom poked her head around the bedroom door.

  “I don’t know.” Hope snuggled deeper under the covers with a groan.

  The bed shifted as her mother sat next to her. Brushing fingers through Hope’s hair, she asked, “Are you sick?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is this about kissing Sinclair?”

  Hope sneaked a peek at her mother, who looked as calm as Lake Leelanau on a hot summer day. “How’d you know?”

  “Mary Stillwell called me last night, after she’d picked up Jeremy.”

  Hope groaned again. “Why can’t everyone leave it alone?”

  “Mary was concerned about you and thought I should know.”

  “Yeah, right.” Mary loved news. Especially something this juicy to pass along.

  Her mom chuckled. “Mary said that Sinclair told her about it first because he didn’t want things blown out of proportion.”

  What did that mean? Was Sinclair sorry he’d kissed her, or was he worried this might cause a scandal at church?

  “I wonder if he talked to all the parents.” Hope didn’t envy Sinclair for that one.

  “Sounds like he did. I got another call this morning.”

  Hope smashed the pillow against her face. At this rate, the whole church would know about their very public display of affection. How was she supposed to face the phone calls today? How was she supposed to face him?

  Her mom pulled the pillow away. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Didn’t her mother understand how these things could spin out of control? “What if this causes problems for Sinclair as the pastor, or the board sees a problem with us working together?”

  Her mom touched her arm and smiled. “Oh, honey, people in love do crazy things sometimes. I’m sure every parent Sinclair talked to understands that. The board will, too.”

  This was exactly what her father had warned against. Embarrassment and heartache, and maybe even the loss of her job—all because she’d fallen under Sinclair’s spell yet again.

  Only that wasn’t fair. This wasn’t Sinclair’s fault. Instead of cutting their embrace short like she should have, she’d returned his kiss with every dream about the two of them she’d ever had.

  “I wonder if Dad will understand?” Hope whispered.

  “He will. Eventually. I’m going to invite Sinclair for dinner Sunday. You two can’t go back now, so you might as well move forward.” Her mom patted Hope’s leg, still tucked under the sheets, and rose to leave.

  Her mother was right. She couldn’t hide her feelings anymore. Now was the time to find out if Sinclair meant what he’d said about wanting to be the last man she ever kissed. And if he meant it, then what were they going to do about it?

  Her mother hesitated in the doorway. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Hope. Don’t forget that.”

  “I know.” Hiding at home was not an option. With Sinclair still out of the office, she’d only have to face Shannon, who’d pump her for details, and Judy.

  Judy would definitely have something to say about it if she knew. Hope should probably tell her. With a sigh, Hope threw the covers back and sat up. She might as well deal with the fallout from last night sooner rather than later.

  “That’s my girl. I’ve made your favorite chocolate chip muffins.”

  A muffin couldn’t fix this, but she appreciated the effort and smiled anyway. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Hope headed for the bathroom to take a quick shower, and her mom’s words echoed through her thoughts.

  People in love...

  Were they really in love? She’d loved Sinclair for so long. These feelings were nothing new. Trying not to hide them was terrifyingly new and different. She’d never felt so exposed. Vulnerable.

  Driving to work, she couldn’t s
top thinking about Sinclair talking to all those parents. She could easily picture him pulling his hair in frustration. Caring about what those parents thought proved how much he’d changed.

  Entering the office, Hope glanced at her desk and groaned. The message light on her phone blinked. She dropped her purse and reached for the play button, but hesitated. Coffee first.

  Even as she scooped fragrant grounds into the filter, the familiar scent of promised caffeine didn’t soothe. Her gaze continually strayed back to that phone blinking with evil abandon. She headed toward it with itchy fingers and finally hit the speaker button.

  Sinclair’s deep voice played clearly over the chugging of the coffeemaker. “Morning, Hope. You’re picking up my bad habits. You’re late. I’ll try you at home.” After a pause, he added, “Man, I miss you.”

  Her heart tumbled, and she smiled.

  The door opened and Judy Graves hurried inside, juggling her purse and hand-stitched, quilted briefcase. She was also later than normal.

  “Morning, Judy.” Hope held her breath. Did she know?

  Judy smiled. “Do you have a minute?”

  Ugh. She already knew. “Yep.”

  “Get yourself a coffee first.” Judy went into her office and then poked her head back out. “Can you bring me one, too?”

  “Sure.” Hope fixed two cups and then made her way toward Judy’s office. Thinking about the kids’ stories being told about her and Sinclair made her cheeks blaze.

  “Oh, Hope,” Judy said as she took a cup from her. “You’re head over heels in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Hope squared her shoulders. “You heard about last night.”

  “Yes. Sinclair called me.”

  “Really.” Hope’s stomach fluttered. Sinclair had tried to nip inevitable gossip in the bud by calling first. That was a good thing. It showed he cared. She plunked into a chair and rested her mug of coffee on Judy’s desk.

  “I got his call right before Mary Stillwell’s.” Judy gave her a weak, disappointed kind of smile.

  Her hopes deflated. This was about damage control. “I see.”

  “I’m not sure that you do. Your relationship with Sinclair is under the microscope now. The whole church is watching, looking for you to set a good example. Dating a pastor is different. It has to be.”

  “I know that.” Did Judy think she had no sense? She knew they had to be careful. Even if they hadn’t been at the Cherry Festival.

  Hope had worked at the church for years. She’d never willingly jeopardize her job. Or Sinclair’s.

  Judy gave her a pointed look. “You need to be really careful. Don’t ever be alone in the office.”

  Hope’s cheeks flared hotter as she wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee. “Of course not.”

  Judy reached across her desk and touched Hope’s wrist. “You okay?”

  Hope looked at Judy, not as a board member and boss, but as a friend. “Mom’s invited Sinclair for dinner Sunday after church.”

  Judy’s eyebrows rose. “Are they coming for the service?”

  “I don’t know yet. I hope so. I think they’re trying, you know? For my sake.”

  Judy nodded. “That’s good. Don’t let them down, Hope. Don’t let any of us down.”

  “I won’t.” Hope knew exactly what she meant.

  Running her fingertip over the tiny scar above her lip, Hope silently vowed to keep that promise.

  * * *

  Saturday afternoon, Sinclair slipped his cell phone into his pocket after leaving a message on Hope’s voice mail. He’d already confirmed his dinner invitation at the Petersen home with Hope’s mom yesterday.

  Still, he wanted to talk to Hope. Needed to talk to her. See her. They’d been playing phone tag since Friday. He downed a bottle of icy-cold water while waiting with his brother for Eva to bring back lunch. Adam had gone to help her. They’d spent a hard morning in the orchard.

  “Problems?” Ryan slipped onto the picnic table.

  “No.” They’d made a silent truce this week, but that didn’t mean they could talk like they used to.

  Sinclair needed to wait until after dinner with the Petersens before making any plans with Hope. Again, God’s lesson in patience was hammering inside his head.

  “Thanks for taking time off to help with the harvest this week.” Ryan cracked open his second bottle of water. “It means a lot to Eva.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Sinclair hopped onto the top of the picnic table next to his brother.

  He stared out over the fields he’d grown up hating. They didn’t seem like a trap anymore. Working in the orchard had brought them all together again.

  Ryan couldn’t take time off from work because his position as the farm manager for a horticultural research station that specialized in cherries made it impossible for him to walk away from his own duties at such a peak time. But he helped out where he could, and so did Eva’s friend and roommate. Beth manned a block of sweet cherry trees that Eva opened up for public picking.

  Sinclair nodded toward the higher part of the orchard. “Did you see that family in the U-Pick block?”

  Ryan laughed. “Those kids wore more cherries than they picked.”

  “You should have seen how fast they were shoveling cherries into their mouths. I’m guessing a bellyache’s on tap for later.”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Eva’s struck gold with the U-Pick,” Sinclair said.

  “What’s up with you and Hope?”

  Sinclair shrugged off his surprise at Ryan’s direct question. “Why?”

  “I heard you got caught kissing at the Cherry Festival.”

  Tomorrow morning’s service promised to be interesting, considering the gossip buzz flying around enough that even his brother knew. “Who told you?”

  “I ran into Jake Williams at the gas station.”

  “Nice.” Sinclair took another swig of his water.

  “Are you serious about her?” His brother had never looked so stern, and that said something, considering Ryan always looked stern.

  “I think so.”

  “Don’t go there unless you’re certain.”

  “I’m certain, okay?” Sinclair understood Ryan’s protectiveness, but he’d been whipped enough. Judy had lectured him pretty good.

  He got that the Petersens had been through a lot. They didn’t want Hope to get hurt. No one wanted Hope to get hurt, including him. Sinclair wouldn’t break her heart for anything, but how did a guy promise not to ever do that?

  He kicked the dirt off his boots against the picnic table seat. “I’m having dinner there tomorrow.”

  Ryan laughed.

  Glad for the sound, Sinclair smiled, too. “What?”

  “Get ready for Jim’s interrogation.”

  Sinclair knew he’d have to come clean about his feelings for Hope if he expected her parents to trust him. What worried him was how they’d get beyond what had happened to Sara. Could Hope’s parents let that go, or would it linger forever between them?

  Sinclair saw the chance for Ryan to open up. “Did he grill you?”

  Ryan couldn’t tread water forever, keeping his memories buried deep below the surface. A ghost of a smile curved his brother’s mouth, but dark sorrow shone from his eyes. “Yeah, Jim grilled me big-time. Especially before I took Sara to the prom.”

  “Who’d you ask first, Sara or her dad?” Sinclair meant way more than the dance, and hoped his brother understood where he wanted to go.

  Where he would go, when the timing was right.

  Judy had warned him not to rush into anything. She’d told him that Hope deserved to be courted and fussed over, and Sinclair would do his best to honor that request. Hope deserved the best he could give her.

  Ryan diverted the con
versation away from himself. “Hope’s been crazy about you since we were kids.”

  “I was stupid then.” Sinclair noticed Eva and Adam approaching with lunch.

  Ryan gave him a hard look. “Don’t be stupid now.”

  Sinclair nodded. Good advice, but not much help.

  * * *

  On Sunday afternoon, Sinclair stood on the side porch of the Petersens’ farmhouse. Adjusting the tuck of his shirt into the khakis he wore, he hesitated before opening the screen door.

  “They won’t bite.” Hope pushed him forward.

  “They might.” Sinclair opened the door and went inside.

  He and Hope had survived the church service despite the number of smirks and winks they’d received. News about their kiss had traveled fast through the congregation.

  When he’d first spotted Jim and Teresa Petersen slide into the fourth-row pew, Sinclair wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or be scared to death. Jim wore a scowl the entire service that warned him to be careful with his daughter or else.

  Fortunately, Jim hadn’t balked when he’d offered for Hope to ride home with him after church. That had to be a good sign. The threat of rain had kept their dinner party indoors instead of the planned cookout, but once the smell of pot roast hit him, Sinclair was glad. Roast beef was one of his favorites.

  “Have a seat. Dinner is almost ready.” Teresa, decked out in an apron, waved a big knife toward a chair at the table.

  He wasn’t going to argue with that knife. Sinclair sat down at the long oak table in the kitchen, feeling strangely at home and out of place at the same time. He hadn’t been in the Petersens’ house in ages, but it hadn’t changed. The kitchen wallpaper was still the same, and the lacy curtains were identical to the ones he remembered.

  “Mr. Petersen.” Sinclair rubbed his palms against the tops of his thighs. He sat across from Hope’s father, who looked at ease sipping his iced tea. “Thank you for coming to service this morning.”

  He glanced back at Hope as she helped her mother. She’d kicked off her sandals and roamed the kitchen barefoot. Watching her graceful moves stirred a sharp longing to have her puttering around the kitchen with him, in the home he’d just purchased. Would she be surprised to find out that he’d learned to cook?