Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Claire pulled a navy dress from her closet, the one with the modest neckline and three-quarter sleeves that Granny Mama claimed was “just right for worship.” A nervous flutter flipped her stomach, and she smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from the fabric.
She had absolutely no reason to be nervous, so why did she do a little spin in front of the mirror to check if the dress hadn’t magically made her look frumpy since the last time she wore it?
Church is not the place for flirting or even thinking about anything other than worship.
“Claire, honey, we need to leave in twenty minutes.” Granny Mama’s voice carried down the hallway.
“Almost ready.” Claire fastened diamond studs in her ears, gifts from her mother on her sixteenth birthday that always put a little sadness in her heart.
She’d been to Haven Ridge Baptist Church three times since returning to Covenant Creek. Three services where she’d slipped in late and left early, trying not to get too attached to a place she might not stay. People here made it so easy to make friends. She couldn’t help herself.
Even Luke’s sometimes harsh demeanor didn’t put her off from offering a hand in friendship. She glared at her pink-cheeked reflection, pressing her cold hands to her flaming face. It did nothing to help the heat. “Stop it. You’re his consultant. That’s all.”
Except it wasn’t all. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
The drive to church included Granny Mama humming hymns under her breath while Claire sang along. Gran drummed her fingers on her purse and smiled at Claire. “You’ve been smiling more this week.”
Claire kept her eyes on the road. “I’m happy.” She tamped down the urge to shrug. “I love being here with you.”
“Mm-hmm.” Granny Mama’s tone suggested she heard way more than Claire’s words. “And I suppose spending time with Luke Calloway has nothing to do with your good mood.”
Her heart did a complete whirl that stole her breath. “Luke is…Luke.”
“And he looks at you like you hung the moon and painted the stars for good measure.” Granny Mama patted Claire’s knee. “And you look at him the same way, honey. No shame in that.”
Claire pulled into the church parking lot, grateful for the distraction. Cars filled most spots already. She recognized several trucks from Friday, including the distinctive navy Calloway ranch vehicle parked near the entrance.
Oh boy. She worked to control her stampeding pulse, but it decided she didn’t have control and ran wild. She gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“Come on.” Granny Mama opened her door. “Let’s go see your young man.”
“He’s not my—” But Granny Mama had already climbed out, closing the door behind her and moving toward the church entrance with surprising speed for someone who’d needed help up the porch steps two days ago.
The modest church building sported plain white siding and a simple steeple. Claire had always loved the honest plainness of country churches. No pretense or performance but filled with people gathering to worship and share life.
She rushed to catch up with Granny Mama in time to help her up the front steps and through double doors that opened into a small foyer. The scent of old hymnals filled the air, and a few muted voices murmured from the sanctuary.
“Claire Whitlock, as I live and breathe.” A woman with steel-gray hair and a smile that crinkled her whole face set her hands on her hips and stopped beside them.
“I’m Margot. I’ve been trying to catch up with you for weeks.
My husband Dave and I were at the branding Friday.
I thought we’d have a chat there, but things ended up getting a bit noisy. ”
“Of course.” Claire shook her hand, warmth flooding through her. “You brought those amazing cookies.”
“Snickerdoodles.” Margot beamed. “Family recipe. Now, you haven’t met my sister yet. Linda, come here.”
A slightly younger woman with the same warm smile joined them. “You sure are a sight for sore eyes, young lady. My father-in-law said you were a fine listener. He’s the one who sat on the fence telling stories Friday morning at the Calloway Ranch.”
“I remember.” Claire laughed. “He had everyone in stitches.”
Linda linked her arm through Claire’s like they’d been friends for years. “Come sit with us. We’re in the middle section, right side. Perfect spot to see everything.” Linda steered her toward the sanctuary without waiting for a response.
Claire opened her mouth to protest. She and Granny Mama had their own spot toward the back, so Gran didn’t have as far to walk.
Linda called out greetings to several members Claire recognized. They nodded at her, light grins and easy laughter telling her this was normal for Linda.
She marched them down the center, where pews lined both sides. A simple wooden cross hung behind the pulpit where Pastor Bennett greeted a new family.
“Now, listen, dear. I know you’re young and all that, but I wanted to invite you to be part of our quilting circle. We meet every other Thursday.”
Claire tried to respond, but words ceased to exist the instant a low voice reached across the small space. There, two pews ahead on the left, sat the Calloway family.
She willed her head to turn, to look away, but her gaze snagged on Luke standing near the side door in charcoal slacks and a light blue button-down that darkened his eyes.
He held a stack of bulletins, greeted people as they entered, and shook hands with the same precise movements he brought to every task.
Even here, even in worship, control defined his posture. Shoulders squared. Spine straight. Expression pleasant but guarded.
Linda leaned in, her hand tightening on Claire’s arm. “That’s quite a view.”
She startled and yanked her head to the side. “I was just—”
“Honey, every unmarried woman under fifty has that same look when Luke Calloway’s around.”
“He doesn’t—”
But Linda had already moved on, settling beside Margot in the pew and patting the space next to her for Claire and Granny Mama.
Claire sat, hands folded in her lap and head forward. Not that it did any good when the man she needed to avoid for the sake of her heart and blood pressure remained firmly in her line of sight.
They filled the entire pew, starting with Wade on the end closest to the aisle, then Ruth with her silver hair pinned in a chignon. Graham, Caleb, and Noah lined up shoulder to shoulder, leaving room for Luke at the other end.
Why did he have to be in front of her?
Luke returned to his usher post by the door. An older couple entered, and he handed them bulletins with a nod, gesturing toward available seating.
“He takes his service seriously.” Margot followed Claire’s line of sight. “Always has. Even as a teenager, that boy approached every responsibility like it was a military operation.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Her fingers tangled so tightly she cut off her own circulation.
“Not bad.” Margot’s expression turned thoughtful. “A bit sad. Like he’s afraid if he stops controlling everything for one second, it’ll all fall apart.”
The observation landed too close to Claire’s own thoughts. Her fingers worried the edge of her bulletin.
More people filed in. A young mother with two small children took the pew directly in front of Claire. The toddler turned around immediately, peering at Claire with solemn brown eyes.
“Hi there.” Claire wiggled her fingers in a small wave.
The toddler’s face split into a dimpled grin. “Hi.”
“Honey, turn around.” The petite blonde woman huffed out a short laugh and stuck her hand over the back of the pew. “Sorry, he’s in a phase.”
Claire shook the offered hand. “He’s precious.”
“He’s a handful. I’m Jen. This is Marcus and his sister Britt.”
“Claire Whitlock.”
“Oh, you’re the one helping folks with their books.” Jen shifted to face Claire more. “Rachael Bennett mentioned you at Bible study. Said you helped the Jacobsons figure out their farm taxes.”
“Just doing what I can.” She never performed for the gratitude of others. It made her squirmy to have everyone talking about how great she was for helping like it wasn’t something any of them would do if they had the chance.
The organ played. Luke finished his usher duties and slid into the pew beside Noah. His profile was all Claire could see from her angle, but it was enough to give her the strong line of his jaw and the soft waves of his hair curling at his collar.
Stop staring. Claire forced her attention to the Bible in her lap.
Pastor Mark stepped behind the pulpit. “Good morning, church family. Let’s open in prayer.”
Claire bowed her head and closed her eyes. They stayed that way for a heartbeat, then fluttered open. Luke’s shoulders dropped as he folded his hands. Even in prayer, tension carved lines between his shoulder blades, tightening every muscle across his back.
She should not be noticing that. Lord, whatever is bothering Luke, I ask You to give him peace. And please help me to pay attention.
Once the prayer ended, they moved on to hymns, testimonies, and another prayer before Pastor Mark opened his Bible. “This morning we’re continuing our series on wisdom. Turn with me to Proverbs chapter three, verses five and six.”
Pages rustled. Claire searched for and found the passage, though she’d memorized it years ago. Her father’s favorite verses, spoken over her so many times she used to recite them in her sleep.
“‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart,’” Pastor Mark’s voice carried clear and strong through the small sanctuary. “‘And lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”
Two pews ahead, Luke’s shoulders pulled back, and his entire body went rigid.
“These verses are about surrender.” Pastor Mark set his Bible on the pulpit. “They’re about recognizing that our understanding, our wisdom, our carefully constructed plans, are not enough. We must trust God even when it doesn’t make sense. Especially when it doesn’t make sense.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck in a brief, barely-there touch.