Limited Light Read online

  No. You’re going to take a shower, put some mascara on those gorgeous eyes and untangle that mop. We’re going to lunch and then shopping and then to Wednesday night Bible study.

  Marti groaned. Not church. Panic rose in her chest. I can’t face those people. Especially since they know.

  You can, and you will. She reached into Marti’s bag and started pulling out her make-up. In fact, the sooner the better. Show ‘em you’re okay. Prove to those hot air balloons you’re better than their gossip. She shoved the deodorant and toothbrush into her hands. Here. You really need these.

  Very funny.

  Besides, Grandma Rose continued, you know I’ve wanted you to meet Pastor James for months.

  Now she was really alarmed. She moaned as she left the stool and headed for the bed. I can’t do it. It hurts too much and I’m too ashamed.

  Grandma Rose rushed to her side and stopped her from crawling into the bed. Stand up, Martha.

  What’s the use? I know how disappointed you are in me. Imagine how I feel about myself.

  Grandma Rose grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her around. Her grip was surprisingly strong for such a little old lady. Marti gasped in surprise .

  Look at me, Martha, she commanded. You made a mistake. You trusted a man who lied to you and broke your heart. God has forgiven you. You have to forgive yourself.

  Marti covered her face. How can I possibly forgive myself for being so stupid?

  Grandma Rose peeled her hands away. Look in my eyes, Martha. I’m going to say something very important.

  Marti lifted her head .

  Grandma Rose’s face softened. The One who really matters knows who you are and what you do.

  Marti sucked in a shuddering breath and leaned into her grandmother’s comforting embrace. She squeezed her eyes tight and inhaled the scent of Grandma Rose’s cotton blouse and the hint of lilac lotion on her hands. It’s true ; God knows . God knows.. .

  ****

  They were late for church, of course, because no matter how many pieces Marti’s heart might be in, there was always shoe shopping to make it better .

  They arrived after everyone else and, at Marti’s insistence, took a seat way in the back instead of heading for Grandma Rose’s regular pew. The lone acoustic guitarist led the congregation through the final refrain of a comforting hymn .

  Marti spotted Jim Bowman sitting on the front right pew. She elbowed Grandma Rose and pointed. By the way, she whispered, I met your friend there in the cemetery Sunday morning. And don’t think I didn’t hear him in the house Sunday afternoon. You two were talking about me.

  Grandma Rose shot Marti a disapproving look. We’re in church, Martha. We’ll talk later.

  Great. I’m ten years old again .

  She returned her attention to Jim and his light, wavy hair. His profile revealed a deep dimple when he smiled at a toddler who got away from her mother and took off teetering up the aisle. She wondered how she missed the dimple the first time he smiled at her .

  The song leader stepped aside to make way for Pastor James to come forward and start Bible study. Marti’s eyes grew wide, and her heart skipped a beat as Jim Bowman took the podium .

  Well, duh . Jim ? Pastor James ?

  She turned to whisper to the side of Grandma Rose’s silvery blond head. Why didn’t you say anything a minute ago when I mentioned Jim Bowman? she spat out a little louder than she intended .

  The corners of her grandmother’s mouth lightly curled. She didn’t even bat an eye .

  As Pastor James welcomed the congregation and began to introduce the topic and scripture reference for the evening, he glanced around the room and spotted her. She tried to slide down in her seat, and in doing so almost slid off the slippery wooden pew .

  Sit still, Martha.

  Terrific, Marti shot back. Now you want to say something.

  She looked to the front again. Pastor James nodded slightly and smiled. She quickly looked away, sure everyone in the room caught his attempt to acknowledge her .

  And just when I was trying to disappear...

  She sat back, crossed her arms, and tried to remain aloof, but the longer she listened, the more enthralled she became. Who knew Pastor James was such a good teacher? As his lesson on how Christians should handle day-to-day burdens and worries deepened, he instructed everyone to turn to Matthew chapter eleven, verse twenty-eight .

  Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

  The words speared what was left of her broken heart. She withered beneath the powerful yet comforting words spoken by Jesus. Could she really give all her pain and sorrow to Him? Was she ever going to feel right and be at rest again?

  She pulled a tissue out of her grandmother’s large beige purse and held it to her tender nose. Maybe being ten years old again wasn’t such a bad idea. She scooted into the shelter of Grandma Rose’s arm, and for the remainder of the service wept quietly under the burden she didn’t think would ever go away .

  ****

  During the benediction, Marti snatched her purse off the floor and planned her escape .

  I’ll be outside, she told her grandmother. Take as long as you like.

  She darted for the door and sought the safety of a bench across the street. She was in no mood for small talk or prying questions about why she was here. It would be impossible to smile and be polite when she felt so desolate inside .

  Now dark, the lights from the church and a streetlamp softly illuminated the cracked sidewalk. She situated herself sideways on the aging bench and kicked off her suede Mary Janes. She hugged her knees to her chest and prepared to wait out Grandma Rose’s marathon gab-fest that traditionally followed every service .

  The gentle hum of the lamp above drew her attention upward. She watched flying insects dart in and out of the soft glow as bats swooped in to snatch them out of the sky. She was so absorbed in the nightly dance she didn’t hear anyone approach .

  Why Miss Martha, I wondered where you’d gotten away to.

  Startled, Marti swung her legs around and set her bare toes on the cold concrete. Miss Martha ? She cringed. His warm southern drawl was as silky smooth as any lifetime Texas cattleman. If it was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was when someone came to Texas and tried to imitate the natives, even though she herself was a transplanted Texan. He probably came from New Jersey .

  Where exactly are you from? Might as well settle this right now .

  Florence , Alabama, born and raised. For a while anyway.

  Alrighty then. At least he came by his slow southern charm honestly .

  Marti ran her hands across her face in an effort to knock off any stray clumps of mascara that had drifted downward in her most recent crying jag. Was anything really waterproof?

  He sat down beside her without an invitation. Dressed casually for Wednesday night service, he wore navy slacks and an expensive brand-name button-down shirt. The daughter of a military chaplain, Marti knew how tight a pastor’s budget could be. Always the financial thinker, she imagined he must be very good with his money. Either that or the designer clothes were a gift. Marti rolled her eyes at her own imagination. She couldn’t care less about his checkbook or his wardrobe, and why things like that popped into her mind at a time like this was well beyond her realm of reasoning .

  Did you enjoy Bible study, Miss Martha?

  Yes, I did, Pastor James.

  You can call me Jim. He was far too smug as he stretched his arm out across the back of the bench .

  She scooted away and presented a view of her back. I believe that’s impossible. I’ve listened to my grandmother talk about you so much, I’m afraid you’ll always be Pastor James to me.

  Touché .

  His low chuckle admitted defeat. Fair enough.

  He settled further into the bench as though he intended to stay a while. You ran off the other morning before I had a chance to say anything or invite you to church. What happened?

  Her shoul
ders sagged. Although it was her greatest desire to be witty and charming when faced with small talk, she’d never been able to pull it off. All the good comments and comebacks always came to her after the fact. She had to face it. She was never going to be one of the flirty and clever women who kept men hanging on her every word. Talking business with millionaires was easy. Answering simple questions from casual acquaintances terrified her. He’d just heard the snappiest she had to offer.

  She turned back around. I’m sorry. I know I looked like a ten-year-old, running away like that. I’m not myself these days.

  It’s not your fault. I was the one who interrupted you. You weren’t expecting company.

  She adjusted the collar of her pale pink blouse and twirled the intermittent beads in her necklace. Why didn’t you tell me you were Pastor James? My grandmother’s been talking about you for almost a year.

  He arched a brow. Really? What did she say?

  Now she was stuck. The most of what Grandma Rose had confided was how sweet and handsome he was. No way, no how she could tell him that .

  Um...she said the church is growing a lot. In fact, I noticed how many people were here even on a Wednesday night. You’re outgrowing this old building.

  Interesting you should say that. I’ve been trying to get a building campaign off the ground.

  Trying? What’s the problem? It’s clear you need to.

  I haven’t been here that long. Some are reluctant to trust the new guy. And let’s just say there is a portion of the congregation that is happy for things to remain the way they are.

  Humph. If things remain the way they are, you’ll be setting up chairs on the parking lot. The church is obviously growing, and I know more and more people are moving out here. I work, or rather used to work with several people who make the drive back and forth every day. I mean, it looks like you have several young families, and if those families don’t have a nursery for their babies or Sunday School rooms for all the children, they’ll go somewhere else. And—

  She stopped suddenly. Had she lost her ever-lovin’ mind? With profound embarrassment, she remembered where she was and whom she was talking to. The heat in her face spread downward to her throat and upward across her scalp .

  Pastor James sat motionless. His jaw had dropped at some point during her speech .

  Sorry, she stammered. I get carried away when I talk about long range plans and manipulating huge sums of money in which to pay for them once they are in motion. She shrugged. It’s what I do.

  Not at all. He smiled and the dimple appeared. It’s nice to hear someone understands my vision.

  Well, like I said. It’s what I do, and I won’t be here long, but I’d be happy to look over the church’s portfolio and offer suggestions. There are a number of options for funding, but you also need to put what money you already have to work for you. You’ll need to form a committee and start your feasibility study, which looks at everything from the church’s history and current vision to zoning, demographics, and accessibility issues. Then of course there’s—

  Oops.

  He was staring again .

  She pushed a stray curl away from her face. Best to get out now. I have to g—

  What brings you back to Madison? He blurted the words out right over her attempt to flee .

  She swallowed hard. She should have escaped a little faster--at least before she’d made such a babbling fool of herself. Ah...I’m in between jobs. I’m only here for a couple weeks while I look for another position. I’m thinking of heading for the Dallas-Ft. Worth area.

  I see.

  Marti wondered if he did see. What did he know? What had the bitter old gossips of the Living Word Community Church told him?

  She made an awkward attempt to point the conversation back his way. Now I have a question for you.

  Okay.

  What were you doing in the cemetery that early in the morning?

  He cocked his head. Long story, but basically I was making sure Mrs. Crandall wasn’t crying or sleeping on her husband’s grave.

  Marti eyed him skeptically. Excuse me?

  Mrs. Crandall’s husband died about six months ago. She’s having a real hard time, so I check on her every couple of days. I hadn’t been able to find her for a day or two, and she wasn’t at home when I went to pick her up for church. She spends a lot of time at his grave. A neighbor thought maybe she’d finally lost her mind to grief and was clinging to his headstone or something.

  Marti snickered. I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny.

  No. It’s okay. I don’t know what I’d have done if she’d actually been there.

  Marti thought of her grandmother’s deep sadness since her grandfather’s death eighteen months ago. She was grateful Grandma Rose had such an attentive pastor .

  Where did you finally find her?

  She was already at church. Someone else had picked her up. I, however, was late.

  Marti repositioned herself on the bench and sat back, practically in the circle of his arm. She hadn’t meant to be that close. I was only there to visit my grandfather. I try to stay out of cemeteries otherwise. They’re so inherently sad and depressing.

  I don’t think that’s true, Miss Martha. A cemetery could only be that sad and depressing if the nursery at the hospital wasn’t equally as full of new babies. And it always is.

  She turned to find him staring intently at her. He was taller than she remembered, and even as he relaxed on the bench, she had to look up at him .

  He abruptly looked away and cleared his throat. I need to get back inside. He stood in front of her. Are you coming?

  No. I’ll wait here.

  But there’s dessert inside, he teased. Your grandmother’s famous cake with chocolate icing is in there.

  Yes, I know. She slapped my hand when I tried to get into it at home.

  Even in the shadows, she saw his smile as he stood in silent invitation, clearly hoping she’d accompany him inside. She dropped her gaze to study the ground in front of the bench, hoping just as much he would give up and go away .

  Okay, then, if you change your mind, I know there are a lot of people here your grandmother would like you to meet or say hello to.

  I can’t. The thought of facing the people who knew what she’d done twisted like a dull knife in her gut .

  He reached under the bench to retrieve her shoes, and then set them in front of her feet. Put these back on. It’s getting chilly out here. The smell of his spicy masculine cologne drifted to her nose as he stood up. What is it you have against shoes, Miss Martha?

  Her smile came much too easy. I don’t have anything against shoes, Pastor James. In fact, shoes are one of my biggest vices. I just like to go barefoot once in a while.

  He turned to head for the church .

  Oh, Pastor James?

  Yes?

  This Miss Martha business has got to stop.

  Oh, it will. He smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. About the same time the Pastor James business stops.

  Limited Light

  Chapter Two

  Jim Bowman sat back in his chair, his feet propped on the corner of his desk. The squirrel race in the oak tree outside his window continued to entertain him as he occasionally flipped through his Bible and contemplated next Sunday’s sermon.

  Okay, that wasn’t exactly true.

  What he was really contemplating was Martha Randolph. Miss Martha . A smart and beautiful spring flower who had appeared in town with no warning and caused his stomach to flip and flop. The details from Rose Randolph had been vague at best. Something had gone wrong with Martha’s job, and now she was figuring out what to do next. By her own admission, she would be here just a couple weeks. He tented his fingers in front of his face and trapped the squirrels in the imaginary cage he made with his hands. Who are you, Martha Randolph ? And why are you so miserable ? The squirrels scampered out of sight. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I’ve been reduced to squirrel watching for entertainme
nt. I definitely need to get out more.

  That’s what I’ve been sayin’.

  He jerked and dropped his feet off the desk as his closest friend appeared in the doorway. Ever hear of knocking?

  I did, Danny replied. You were lost in thought.

  Oh.

  I came to get you for lunch.

  Can’t. I’m meeting Preston today.

  Danny grimaced as he sat down. That’s too bad.

  Jim grinned and set his Bible aside, then picked up his can of diet cherry cola. Preston’s not so bad once you get used to him. He means well, and he carries a lot of weight in this community. I don’t mind listening to him, ‘cause every once in a while he manages some good advice.

  Danny waved his hand in the air and scooted up close to the desk. Forget Preston. What do you think of her ?

  Her who?

  You know who. Marti Randolph. What do you think of her?

  Jim slowly scooted a piece of paper away with his fingertips, carefully choosing his words. She seems like a very sweet and very smart woman.

  And?

  And what?

  What do you think of her?

  Danny’s face was stretched so tight in a smile that the thin line of dark whiskers above his upper lip almost disappeared. So much for the mustache he’d been trying to grow. His brown eyes twinkled with expectation under his shaggy bangs. Jim smiled. His closest friend in Madison was no more than a scruffy twenty-nine-and-a-half-year-old teenager--but that’s exactly why he was so good with the youth .

  I don’t even know her. She’s just passing through, visiting her grandmother. I’ve interacted with her just as I do anyone visiting the church. What’s this about?

  Kim says she’s really great.

  That caused a spike in his heart rate. Kim knows her? Okay, a little too anxious .

  Yeah. They went to high school together. Marti ran track, and I think was the class valedictorian or something. A real brainiac. She and Kim went to church here and were in youth group together.

  Has Kim talked to her since she’s been in town?

  No. She was going to talk to her last night at Bible study, but the baby was fussin’ and by the time Kim got him changed, Marti was gone.