Marrying Minister Right by Annie Jones

Author:Annie Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2009-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Michael hesitated only a moment before he took Heather’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It wasn’t that I wanted to shut you out, Heather. I just…well, you’re in town for such a short time and the situation with Avery is a total mess and I don’t know how…or when…it’s going to really work out.”

There, that wasn’t so hard, she wanted to tell him. She didn’t need to know everything, she just needed for him to be up-front with her. If only he had been that candid with her ten years ago, then…Then what?

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” She inhaled the aroma of coffee and it reminded her that she had work to get to. “I know you’ll figure it out and do the right thing.”

“Really?” Michael pushed the nearly antique chair back from the table so forcefully that it squawked and creaked. He picked up his plate in one hand and his coffee mug in the other. The thin, blue, fluted paper with muffin crumbs still clinging to it fell to the floor. “You think I can get a handle on the disenfranchised, angry teenager thing and actually do some good for Avery?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “Just keep in mind that Avery is a great kid. She is bright and capable of understanding and dealing with the truth if you give her the chance.”

He stood. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that, Heather.”

“Good.” She bent, swept up the fallen paper muffin cup and stood just as he stepped forward to take his plate and mug to the sink.

“Yeah,” he murmured, standing just inches from her.

For a second she just stood there, so close she could see every detail of his face. His eyelids drooped slightly, casting the usually playful glint in his eyes in shadow that only intensified his probing gaze. His pale lips did not curve upward at the corners and yet, from this vantage point she could still see the outline of his dimples.

“You…” She raised her hand and brushed her fingers over his cheek lightly.

His eyes grew wide at her touch.

“Muffin crumb,” she explained.

“Oh.” He chuckled. “I can shepherd a flock, head emergency operations for the entire town and, according to you, cope with teenage angst, but I still don’t seem to have the whole feeding-myself-without-making-a-mess thing mastered.”

She nodded. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to feel.

This, the two of them alone in the small kitchen of Michael’s home with the morning sunlight streaming in, was the closest Heather had ever been to actually feeling like she belonged. Like she had a home.

Or that she could have a home. Maybe someday, in time, if she and Michael could find their friendship again and build on that. If she could be sure he did not harbor the same opinion of her that the Parker family had, that her own father had. That she was unworthy.

If only she knew that he did not hold her history against her. If she

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