Courting Hope Read online

  “Maybe she didn’t want to interrupt.” Shannon wiggled her eyebrows.

  Hope’s stomach took a dive. Last night Sinclair had taken her to a very romantic restaurant. They’d sat side by side in a secluded booth with candlelight. In two days they’d gone out twice, which seemed promising, but Sinclair applied the brakes every chance he could. Maybe he didn’t feel the same urgency as her. The same desire to make their relationship permanent.

  “Don’t worry, he’s crazy about you.”

  Hope started at Shannon’s words. Were her fears that easy to read? “I hope so.”

  Concentrating on work hadn’t been easy this week. Every movement Sinclair made in the office distracted her. And now she had to wait for tonight’s meeting to find out if he’d back her preschool.

  What if he truly wanted a youth center? What then?

  * * *

  By the time Sinclair skipped down the steps leading to the church’s lower level, he wished the building committee meeting done and over before it had even started. He’d had his fill of explaining his relationship with Hope. He understood the board’s concerns with him dating one of his staff, but he’d assured them that he and Hope were serious. He didn’t think that statement made them feel any better, though.

  Last night, saying good night at her parents’ doorstep had torn him in two. He’d driven past the house he’d bought, impatient to share it with Hope. But he’d promised himself and the board that he’d proceed with control and maturity where Hope was concerned. He was a pastor now, and he had to act like one—whatever that meant. He was still figuring it out.

  He’d declined Hope’s invitation to grab dinner before midweek service because he needed some distance so he could concentrate. His message notes had to be reviewed, and he didn’t want to let slip which project he supported. She’d hear his decision along with the rest of the committee.

  “Here we go again, right, Sinclair?” Chuck Stillwell slapped him on the back. He harangued him more than Hope trying to find out which project he’d support.

  “I trust you’ve given my advice some thought?”

  “I gave it a lot of thought.” Sinclair took a seat at the four long tables that had been pushed together.

  Waiting for the others to gather round after grabbing coffee and cookies, Sinclair glanced out the office windows toward the parking lot. Jeremy Stillwell played basketball with a couple other kids, and Sinclair wished he was out there with them.

  “Holding up okay?” Hope slid into the seat next to him. She set down her file, pen and notepad for taking meeting minutes.

  “Yeah, why?”

  She shrugged. “You look like you’ve had a tough day.”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed. She’d worked at this church and knew these people well enough to know he’d been under some thumbs today. She’d make the perfect pastor’s wife.

  The apostle Paul’s letters to the church at Corinth, which instructed that it’s better for a man to marry, took on new meaning now. How long would they have to wait?

  He glanced at Hope. With her elbows on the table, she looked ready to do battle for her preschool. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that. “You’re prepared.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  She’d waited a long time for him, too.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She’d know soon.

  “I’d like to call this meeting to order,” Judy Graves announced.

  The murmurs of separate conversations died down while everyone took their seats.

  “I think we should make a decision tonight. We’ve kicked this project around long enough.” Chuck Stillwell led the charge.

  “I second that.” A board member who agreed with almost everything Chuck said raised his hand to make a motion.

  The fate of the project rested on eight shoulders, and Sinclair didn’t want a divided vote.

  “Very well.” Judy held up her copy of Hope’s spreadsheet. “Have you all reviewed the comparison?”

  Questions ricocheted off the group. Judy answered some, and Hope responded to others.

  Sinclair listened. As much as he hated to admit it, Chuck was right. Now was the time to decide or forget the whole project. Back and forth, the debate waged until it finally died into silence.

  “Well, shall we move to a vote?” Judy glanced at him.

  “One minute.” Sinclair sat forward. He glanced at the faces surrounding the table. Eager eyes rested on him. He read apprehension and worry in Hope’s face. He finally felt worthy of her trust, and he wasn’t going to let her down.

  “I’m new and young and inexperienced, but I’m smart enough to recognize that families with young children are gravitating to this church.”

  He took a quick sip of his water before going on. “This committee had their homework done before I arrived. You’ve already agreed on the project to pursue, and I believe we should reinstate that. A preschool will satisfy our mission statement to grow and support this community with God’s word. Early education gives us the perfect tool to do that.”

  Applause erupted from several of the committee members, including Judy.

  “Now just hold on.” Chuck threw up his arms. “Aren’t we missing the obvious here?”

  Sinclair narrowed his gaze. “What’s that?”

  “Your change of heart has everything to do with who you’re dating. You proposed the youth center when you interviewed.”

  “I had ideas, Chuck. Cost-effective ones, but now that I’ve been here awhile, I think—”

  “You’ve only been here a month,” Chuck challenged.

  Sinclair looked at the rest of the committee members. Most were board members, and they stared at him in tense silence, waiting for an answer. No doubt eager to see how he’d handle open opposition.

  He took a calming breath. “I’ve spoken with your previous minister several times about this project. This was his vision for the church, and the congregation agreed. I needed my own confirmation of that vision before I decided which way to go.”

  “And your confirmation came before or after you kissed our office manager?” Chuck’s droll tone carried a hint of sarcasm, but his meaning was clear. Very clear.

  Sinclair almost flew out of his chair, but Hope’s hand on his arm stopped him. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and made eye contact with every single person around that table. “Hope and I are dating, but our relationship has nothing to do with the fact that she’s qualified to run a preschool.”

  Chuck looked amused. “All I’m saying is, should we follow your heart in this decision? I’d prefer our votes to come from a more logical place.”

  Sinclair breathed in the tension of the room. He heard Hope shift in her seat next to him. He had to get this right, and that meant not wiping the sneer off Stillwell’s face.

  “I believe God speaks through men’s hearts.”

  The group concurred with murmurs of agreement.

  “Chuck, you and I are no different in wanting to see someone we care about realize their calling. We’re not ready to support a youth pastor when our regular attending teens are less than a handful. Will we eventually get there? I believe so.”

  The silence was deafening, but he kept going. “Hope’s proven her ability with the kids’ Sunday and Wednesday night programs, and she’s proven there’s interest within the community for a tuition-based preschool and summer program. She’s worked hard on this project. No one can deny that.”

  “We’re busting at the seams down here,” Sonja, a retired teacher and children’s church volunteer, added.

  Chuck squared his shoulders. “We’re not denying Hope’s ability or her integrity—”

  “Then don’t deny God’s plan because of me, or your lac
k of trust in my integrity.”

  “Are you saying you’ve heard from God on this, Sinclair?” Judy’s question pushed him to the wall.

  “God established this plan before I came here. Talking to your previous minister makes that pretty clear. I’m confident this decision is the right one. You all have to search your own hearts and decide from there.”

  “Hope, you’ve worked on this from the beginning,” Judy pointed out. “If we agree to move on the preschool, what is our next step?”

  Sinclair could have hugged Judy for asking the perfect question to get them moving toward a positive vote. He finally looked at Hope, and his chest swelled at the pride shining from her eyes.

  An instant later, Hope became all business. “I think we need to revisit the original pledges, confirm them and also open it up for newcomers to be a part of this. Before we can update our bids, we need to nail down the financing. Pledges are a big part of that.”

  Judy nodded and stood tall, as if daring anyone else to voice an issue. “If no one else has any questions, I propose we go to a vote.”

  “I second that,” Sonja called out.

  Sinclair looked around the table before his gaze settled back on Hope. She twisted a napkin with her fingers.

  “With a show of hands, all in favor of the preschool?” Judy counted off a majority vote, but Chuck had not raised his hand. “Then it’s a go.”

  Sinclair rubbed the back of his neck. A major hurdle overcome, but would this come together without Stillwell’s support?

  * * *

  Hope leaned against the railing outside the church office while Sinclair remained inside chatting with lingering board members. She needed air, big-time. Judy wasn’t kidding about being under the microscope. Chuck’s comments about her as the reason for Sinclair’s change of heart wiggled deep in her belly like a worm in dirt. Was Sinclair doing this for her or because he truly believed in the preschool?

  “Good job in there, Hope. You handled yourself well.” Sonja gave her a hug.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t you worry about ol’ Chuck. He’ll come around.”

  Hope nodded, but the implications gnawed at her. What if he didn’t? Chuck Stillwell was the largest financial contributor for the project. If he pulled back his pledge...

  Committee members poured out of the church and gathered up their kids from the basketball court at the far end of the parking lot. Hope said her good-nights and thank-yous even as doubts swamped her. Did any of them believe she’d manipulated Sinclair’s decision?

  She stared at the fields beyond the parking lot and waited for Sinclair to lock up the building. Big fat rolls of recently cut hay dotted the sloping landscape. The late evening sun cast a golden haze over everything, making it look surreal, like a scene from the past.

  She wondered what the church’s founding members had in mind for this building a hundred years ago. There hadn’t been one addition since. Could the church rally around a big construction project?

  Hope felt a warm hand touch her back.

  “You okay?” Sinclair’s voice was low and sweet next to her ear.

  She leaned against his chest, loving the protective feel of his arms circling her waist. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry about Chuck.”

  She turned around to face him. “Don’t apologize for him or anyone.”

  “Thanks for holding me accountable in there before I came unglued.” He threaded his fingers through her short hair. “What he said isn’t true.”

  Looking into his eyes, Hope believed him. But Sinclair didn’t have her passion for the preschool. Maybe she expected too much. His calling was different from hers, but still, shouldn’t he have a little more fire for the project? “What if he pulls his financial support?”

  Sinclair rested his forehead against hers. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

  Hope didn’t ask how, knowing it might mean years of delay. Chuck’s pledged donation was huge. They’d look at the numbers tomorrow and make a plan for the congregation to confirm their earlier pledges and make new ones. Then they’d have a better feel for where they were. Her dreams inched closer but still dangled out of reach.

  Wrapping her arms around Sinclair’s middle more tightly, she gave him a squeeze.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Thank you for voting for the preschool.”

  He kissed the end of her nose. “Want to go somewhere and celebrate?”

  They may have won the first round, but the match loomed too uncertain for a victory dance just yet.

  “Honestly, I’m beat. Maybe tomorrow?” Hope gave him a brave smile.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He leaned close and kissed her.

  Hope pulled back before he deepened it.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  She cocked her head toward their surroundings. “The microscope, remember?”

  “I’m really not digging this whole microscope thing.” He caressed her cheek. “Talk to me, Hope. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I’m fine.” She took a step back. “Really. Just tired.”

  She couldn’t describe the unsettled feelings churning inside her and couldn’t quite verbalize the worry that gnawed at her gut. They were so close. Her preschool had finally received a majority vote, but Chuck’s digging in for the youth center soured the success.

  Sinclair ran his finger along her jaw. “Okay, we’ll talk in the morning.”

  “Yes, we will. See you tomorrow.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and stepped away before she unloaded her fears. Sinclair didn’t need that.

  With a wave, she trotted toward her car. After she’d slipped behind the wheel, Hope noticed that Sinclair stood staring out at the same hayfield. And he didn’t look a bit certain of the future, either.

  That scared her.

  Chapter Twelve

  “We’ve got a problem.” Sinclair looked across his desk at the woman he loved, knowing he was about to deliver a huge blow.

  “What’s that?”

  He pushed Chuck Stillwell’s original pledge card Hope’s way and then watched her eyes grow wide as she read it.

  “No...”

  “Our numbers are way off.”

  “But—let me see the spreadsheet.” Hope pulled the papers toward her. As she stared, tears gathered in her eyes, making Sinclair feel helpless.

  “I transposed the amount from the very beginning,” Hope whispered.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t catch it before.” He’d never reviewed the original pledges until this morning. He’d based everything off the spreadsheet of pledged income and construction costs approved by the board the first time around.

  “What can we do?” Her gray eyes pleaded.

  Sinclair covered her hand with his. “We have to revise the pledge income and see where we are.”

  She pulled back, away from him. “That’s a huge difference. A giant mistake. My mistake.”

  “We have to try.” It was his responsibility to make sure he had all the facts, and he hadn’t done it. He’d rushed ahead.

  “Are those the pledges from people who don’t attend anymore?” She pointed to the short stack of cards near his phone.

  Sinclair nodded. “The figure’s pretty low. Fortunately, the folks that left after your minister retired were not big givers.”

  “You’re our minister now, Sinclair.” Her response was fierce, reminding him that this was his problem. His decision. His future.

  Running her fingers through her hair, she blinked fast in what looked like an effort to keep it together. She continued, “And I’d already pulled them out of our figures, but I never thought to recheck the standing pledges.”

  Sinclair couldn’t stand it anymore. Forget professi
onal distance. He circled his desk and gathered Hope into his arms. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I don’t make these kinds of mistakes.” She buried her head in his shoulder.

  He held her close and kissed the top of her head. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “Not this big.”

  He rubbed her back, but a hug and a kiss wouldn’t make it better. The preschool was shot unless they could afford to borrow the shortfall.

  Hope pushed out of his embrace to grab a tissue from the box on his desk. “I’ll revise those numbers and then let you know what I come up with.”

  Sinclair didn’t like it when she shut him out. She didn’t have to solve this alone. He couldn’t do much but wait for her update. But he could pray.

  * * *

  A few hours later, after she’d delivered the updated figures to Sinclair and Judy, Hope sat outside on a bench beneath the crab apple tree near the pastoral office window.

  Even after she’d included Sinclair’s generous pledge, it wasn’t enough.

  She couldn’t stop herself from asking how he could make such a pledge when he was buying a house. He smiled and told her that his parents had split the proceeds from the sale of the orchard with their kids. How much Sinclair had received, she didn’t know. He didn’t offer to tell her, either.

  The comforting whirl of the office air conditioner drowned out all other sounds. Her stomach growled, but her turkey sandwich remained in the brown paper bag untouched.

  She’d played with these figures for years, but Judy was the expert when it came to the finances for the church. If anyone could find a way, it’d be Judy.

  She closed her eyes and prayed for a sign, something—anything—from God to confirm the project would move forward as planned. They needed this preschool. Dorrie and her girls needed the summer program even more.

  “Hey.”

  Hope looked up at Sinclair. “How’d it go?”

  He held out his hand. “Let’s get some lunch.”

  She grabbed her bag. “I already have one.”

  When she didn’t take his offered hand, he let it drop. “Picnic, then. Come on.”