Preacher's In-Name-Only Wife Page 4

  “What is your heart telling you?”

  “That she’s a beautiful woman and she needs my help.”

  “Will helping her compromise your standing with your work?”

  “No…at least I don’t think so. It’s more of a friendship proposal.”

  “You have to go by your own convictions, son.”

  “You’re not giving me a whole lot of help, here.”

  “Like I said. I’m not the one whose help counts. What do you think of this Amy? Is she someone you can see yourself with twenty years from now?”

  “I just met her, Dad. And I told you it would only be for three months. I…maybe it’s the man in me talking.”

  “Evokes a few fantasies, does she?”

  Dan laughed. Trust his dad to cut to the heart of the matter without pussyfooting around. “More than a few. It’s more than that, though. There’s a strong…I don’t know what it is. Almost a rightness when I look at her. Besides that, she has a need. A genuine need—both she and her mother. And I’m the only one who can fill that need. If I don’t, it’s going to be rough on my conscience.”

  “There’s a lesson in everything that happens in our lives, you know that. Faith, Dan. That’s your course. I can’t advise you what to do. I will tell you that I’ll support any decision you make. Your mother and I will stand behind you one hundred percent.”

  Dan sighed. He was one of the lucky ones. Not every guy had family that offered unconditional love. “Thanks for the support. I need to talk to the church board before I make any firm decisions.”

  “So you’re considering accepting?”

  “Yes. I’m considering.” He couldn’t believe it, but he was. He couldn’t turn away someone in need.

  A memory that he kept close at hand lest he be tempted to lose sight of who he was ran through his mind. After he’d gotten the drunk driving citation on the tractor, he’d known he needed to settle down. Judge Lester had gone easy on him, sentencing him to community service.

  When his obligations were met, he’d gone back to college, determined to turn his life around and do what was right. To make his family proud. God knows, his reckless teenage years had given them enough sleepless nights.

  Although his buddies were aware that he’d sworn off drinking, a bunch of guys had still tried to cajole him into attending a party off campus, laughing and promising not to lead him into sin but telling him that they needed a designated driver.

  He’d declined, saying he had to study for an exam. That had only been a partial truth, an excuse really since he’d decided to clean up his act and avoid the party scene. At the time, he’d been full of his own righteousness, judging his friends by their actions.

  Never mind that he’d been one of the biggest party hounds before that. He’d stood rigidly on his morals.

  That night, tragedy had forever altered his rigidity. Alcohol, combined with rain-slick roads had resulted in a gruesome accident. One friend had died at the scene and another had ended up in a wheelchair.

  The agony and guilt Dan had experienced was overwhelming.

  He could have prevented the tragedy, but he’d turned his back on his friends. He’d been focused on what he thought was moral, instead of how he could help.

  At the hospital, holding Chad’s hand as his buddy wept over the loss of movement in his legs, Dan had made a vow never to make that mistake again.

  To never turn his back on a person in need.

  Now he was faced squarely with his own convictions. Amy and her mother needed his help. He could focus on the worry over desecrating sacred marriage vows, or he could trust his instincts and help a person who’d found herself backed into a corner with only one way out. A woman whose father had, without hesitation, risked his life for Dan’s own father.

  Amy wasn’t asking him to engage in an illicit affair, wasn’t advocating something that could be considered morally corrupt.

  Just a ninety-day marriage. Three months of friendship and companionship.

  That in itself was a difficult lure to resist. He gazed around the study, a beautiful, warm room with rich oak paneling, complemented by wine and forest-green accents and hundreds of books on a multitude of subjects to keep him occupied and engaged.

  But books, though comforting, didn’t talk back.

  It would be nice to have company.

  A wife.

  His stomach lurched at the thought.

  He didn’t know the purpose, or the “why” of finding himself in this position, but he’d learned over the years that there always was one. He had to trust that he was being led exactly where he was supposed to go for this particular time.

  The next step, however, was the approval of the church board. If the door remained open, who was he to refuse to walk through it?

  “I’ll let you know what I decide, Dad.”

  Chapter Three

  Amy looped the camera strap over her neck and made her way down the oak staircase at the Bagley widows’ boardinghouse. Lavender sachets and potpourri scented the old white house, giving it an atmosphere that made it feel alive, as though the very air was a pair of loving arms waiting to envelop and welcome guests.

  Aged furniture, hardwood floors, doilies on the back of the camel-hair sofa. It felt just like Grandma’s house.

  Everywhere she looked evoked a memory: reading Black Velvet in her grandmother’s parlor and dreaming of grand adventures on horseback; drinking cocoa in the kitchen and poking the marshmallows beneath the surface of the chocolate, seeing how long they’d keep popping back up without melting; scattering jacks across a scuffed pine floor and wrestling the springy red ball away from the cat; ducking when Gramps stepped on one of the jacks that had skidded across the floor after a particularly zealous throw.

  She’d had a wonderful childhood, and just now realized how much of it had been spent at her grandparents’ house. With Gramps.

  A wave of sadness nearly buckled her knees. She loved that pigheaded, blustery old man and missed him with an ache that was like a raw, bloody wound.

  What could he have been thinking to put her in this situation? In a strange yet magically beautiful town, asking a total stranger to share his roof and his name with her?

  Shaking her head, she continued down the stairs and found the widows in what they fondly called their morning room. Although snow piled outside the door, the afternoon sun shone through the sheer lace curtains, bathing the aged woods with a soft buttery glow. Logs crackled in the fireplace, giving off the subtle scent of apple. A plate of oatmeal cookies and a china teapot rested on the coffee table.

  Mildred and Opal both came to attention, as though they’d been waiting with their ears to the wall for her to come back down but were valiantly trying to act normal.

  Amy saw right through them, and it made her smile.

  “Did you get settled in, dear?” Mildred asked, laying aside her National Enquirer and ignoring Opal’s censuring look at the magazine.

  “Yes, thank you. The room is lovely.”

  “I remember, many years back, Dan came to stay with us for a spell. We put him up in the blue room you’re in. Had a falling-out with his folks and ran away from home, didn’t he, sister?”

  Opal nodded and smiled, discreetly tucking Mildred’s magazine beneath a pile of quilting books. “Ran right to us. We called Pastor Phil straight away, of course. Wouldn’t want to interfere in a parent’s business.”

  Amy imagined the sisters were attempting to open the door for her to give them more information on why she was here. But she was reluctant to do so.

  Sure, if Dan accepted her offer, it would be public knowledge faster than a whirlwind could snuff a match. But until he gave her a decision, it was between the two of them. She owed it to him to guard his privacy.

  All the widows knew was that she was here on personal business that had to do with Dan Lucas. They’d simply nodded and ushered her up to her room to get settled. But Amy knew they were itching to find out the details.

&nb
sp; “At least, I didn’t want to interfere,” Opal amended. “Sister, on the other hand, was a menace.”

  “Just because I sided with the boy? Humph. You were always too rigid for your own good.”

  Amy was intrigued by the ladies’ bickering. Love showed on their lined faces. Neither one cracked a smile, but the smile was clearly there, nonetheless.

  She lifted her camera from where it hung at her chest, paused. “May I?”

  Mildred fussed with her ash-blond pageboy cut. “Oh, I’ve eaten off my lipstick. I’m a mess.”

  “You’re a vain old woman, is what you are,” Opal said with a sniff.

  Amy snapped a picture anyway, noticing the flashy polish on Mildred’s fingernails. Siren-red with white polka dots. “What fun,” she commented, nodding at Mildred’s hands.

  “Makes me dizzy,” Opal complained. “I thought the Christmas tree decals she had Arletta paint on those fingernails was a mite gaudy and showy for the holidays, but they were better than this.”

  “It’s a new year,” Mildred defended, unfazed that her sister was maligning her manicure. “I needed a little whimsy.”

  “The butterflies you had last week weren’t whimsy enough for you?” Opal demanded.

  “Yes, well, they were difficult for Arletta.”

  “Why you can’t have normal fingernails like the rest of us is beyond me.”

  “Never know when you’ll attract a nice man. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Men adore long fingernails and long hair.” Mildred gave her hair another fluff and stared pointedly at Opal’s military-short, steel-gray do.

  “Men.” Opal said the word dramatically. “It seems like that’s all you can think about of late. Your Jerome, God rest his soul, would turn over in his grave if he knew you’d gone hormone crazy, like this.”

  “You’re jealous because Lester Russo paid me a compliment at bingo Saturday night and didn’t give you a second glance.”

  “Have you forgotten your Jerome and the judge came to fists over you back in forty-nine?”

  “Yes, wasn’t that romantic?” Mildred smiled and sighed like a dreamy girl after her first real kiss. Amy snapped the shot. Perhaps she’d send it to this Judge Lester person for Valentine’s Day.

  As the widows sniped and challenged each other, Amy’s camera continued to whirl, her fingers automatically adjusting focus and angle as the shutter clicked away. A fond look; now exasperated; a sparkle of the eye; the barest hint of a suppressed smile—evidence that the bickering was a long-standing routine, a show.

  She lowered the camera and grinned. “Did Arletta paint your whimsical butterflies freestyle, or use a decal?”

  “Freehand. She’s a bit of an artist. Understandable that a fingernail would be a difficult canvas, being so small and all. So we opted for the polka dots this week. Do you do portraits, dear?”

  “Only for special friends. I predominantly do…I guess you’d say life portraits. Photographs that make a statement. Rare places and animals, also. I have an opportunity to work for National Geographic. They’re sending me to Africa. If I do well, it could lead to other assignments and a steady position with the magazine.”

  “Oh, how delightful. You’ll accept the offer, won’t you?”

  “Well…” A knock on the door saved her from answering.

  Mildred rushed to answer it, fluttering her hands and commenting about the thrill of so much company on a Thursday afternoon.

  “Dan! Land’s sakes, boy. Were your ears burning?”

  Booming laughter filled the front hall and carried to every corner of the room, transforming the atmosphere like static on a windy day. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it.

  Amy’s heart lurched. Good heavens, she’d asked this man to marry her. His height and his looks gave her a swift, instant punch, something she wasn’t expecting. He wouldn’t be an easy man, would want to call the shots rather than be manipulated.

  She didn’t know why she knew that. He was a minister. The title itself would make a person think of calm waters, even temperament. The turmoil he stirred inside her was anything but calm and even. Masculinity oozed from him in tangible waves.

  And, darn it, he was still dressed like a cowboy. Brown Stetson, sheepskin-lined jacket, denim and flannel beneath that fit his body as though tailor-made to show off his physique. No baggy clothes to hide the goods.

  Little wonder she’d had no clue to his identity. Was there a sin somewhere for a minister to sneak around like a normal man, just waiting to catch unsuspecting innocents like herself in a transgression? There ought to be rules, she decided, that mandated a clergyman should look like a clergyman.

  Amy made herself calm down. She wanted to get on with things, find out if he’d made a decision. And at the same time, she wanted to put it off. This was a big step. A life-altering step.

  Temporarily, she reminded herself.

  “You talking about me again, Mildred?”

  “You’re a fine specimen of a man to talk about.”

  Opal sighed. “It soothes me to know that you’ve got an ‘in’ with the good Lord above. Otherwise, I’d be forced to accept that there’s no hope for my sister. Honestly, speaking to a preacher in such a way. It’s unheard-of.”

  “Well, now,” Dan said. “I don’t mind when a pretty woman comments on my manliness.”

  “See there,” Mildred challenged, glaring at Opal. “Come in. Sister baked cookies and there’s jasmine tea in the pot. We’ve cider, or cocoa if you’d prefer.”

  Dan looked past the sisters, and his gaze connected with Amy’s. “Actually, I came to have a word with your houseguest.”

  “Boarder,” Amy corrected automatically. She didn’t know why she did it. Somehow, it seemed important to make the distinction. As though by paying for her room, she could control her destiny.

  “Of course.” He took off his hat and stepped toward her. “Miss Independent.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” She made herself stay where she was when every instinct inside her was urging her to step back. To flee. He brought in the crisp, clean scent of winter, and a powerful masculinity that stole her breath and made her heart trip like a finger stuck on a camera shutter.

  Each time she saw him she wasn’t prepared. For the zing. The physical beauty. And he was a beautiful man. His looks and virility made her forget who he was.

  He stopped in front of her, grinned down at her. “Even independent people need to ask for help now and again.”

  Which was why they were both in this dilemma. “Your point.”

  He raised a brow, and she was struck once again at how he could pack such a powerful punch with a single gesture.

  “Are we keeping score?”

  Silence surrounded them. Amy realized the widows were uncharacteristically quiet, unabashedly eavesdropping.

  She drew in a breath. “Would you like tea?”

  Or me.

  The thought popped into her head without so much as a by-your-leave and nearly shouted. She groaned. A lot was riding on whether he wanted her. Or at least would accept her presence in his life for the next three months.

  Instead of continuing the volley that was clearly piquing the widows’ interest, Dan turned to Mildred and Opal. “If you ladies don’t mind, I’d like to steal your…boarder away for a bit. Give her a tour of the town.”

  “Oh, that’s a lovely idea.” Mildred’s tone suggested just the opposite and Amy hid a smile. Clearly the sisters were hoping to get the scoop.

  “What do you say, Amy?” Dan asked.

  “Sure. Let me get my coat.”

  She raced up to her room and was back in a matter of minutes, carrying her backpack filled with extra camera bodies, lenses and film, a toothbrush and a change of socks and underwear.

  They were standard items she carried as a matter of practice. She never knew when she’d get wet or stranded or whatever. Nothing worse than finding one’s self unexpectedly in the middle of a great, career-making opportunity and have a camera or fla
sh break, or blowing a shot because her feet were wet and cold.

  The fact that she was stepping out with a minister, though, made the knowledge of carrying a toothbrush seem a little on the tawdry side.

  Of course he didn’t know she carried a toothbrush and underwear in her purse.

  “Ready?”

  Hoping her face wasn’t glowing, since it certainly felt as though it was, she nodded and followed him to the porch. The only vehicle parked out front was her Jeep. Across the street at the sheriff’s station, a beefy Bronco with a bar of emergency lights across its top straddled the diagonal line as though the driver had been more concerned with haste than parking courtesy.

  She didn’t imagine Dan had arrived in a county-issued sheriff’s vehicle.

  “Did you walk?”

  “Yes. It’s only a few blocks, and it’s a nice day for it. Would you rather take your car?”

  “Will I need it?” Will I be coming back here? Oh, there were so many things she didn’t know. She had no idea how this was all supposed to work.

  “Unless you’re not up for a two-block walk, you won’t need it. Most everything to see is right here along Main Street. You look in pretty good shape to me.”

  It caught her off guard that he was commenting on her body. Especially when his eyes strayed to her derriere. Should he be doing that? She tugged at the hem of her coat, zipped it against the cold.

  “Um, thank you. I try to stay in shape.”

  “Nice one, too.”

  He dropped the suggestive compliment into the conversation without so much as a hitch and started walking. Amy missed a step and had to jog to catch up with him.

  “Do you always say things like that?”

  “Compliments? Yes, when they’re warranted. You have something against them?”

  “No, but…”

  He stopped so fast she plowed into him. He steadied her with hands at her elbows, looked down at her.

  “But what, Amy?” His voice took on the barest hint of an edge. “I’m a minister, yes. That’s my vocation. But I’m also a man. And that means I have the same urges, desires and thoughts as any other human being. So, let’s clear the air right now and get it straight that everything on me or about me works the same as any other man’s.”