his head, Trevor strode toward the exit.
Before entering the fellowship hall, Rodney paused to look behind him. Something stirred inside his chest as he watchedTrevor leave the church. Because his son had liked the singer so much, he was prepared to like him too.
Help me care for him as You care for him, Lord. Show me all the reasons You brought him to us. Help me honor my sonâs friendship with him.
He released a breath and continued through the entry door. A quick sweep of his gaze located the candy booth, and he set off in that direction. He hoped he wasnât too late for some of Edna Franklinâs fudge. His disappointment would be acute if he was.
Heâd almost reached the booth when his daughter moved into his path, forcing him to stop. âDad, you know the doctor said you need to cut back on sweets.â
âCut back, not cut out altogether. There are limits, dear girl, to what Iâm willing to give up this side of heaven.â
âDad . . .â
He frowned. âIâm not in my dotage, Penny. Please donât treat me as if I am. And I donât need you to act like my mother either.â The look in her eyes said heâd hurt her feelings, and he regretted his words, even though heâd spoken the truth. âSorry, honey, but I can still think for myself.â He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, hoping the gesture might soften his added comment.
I know , she mouthed as he stepped back again. Then she gave him a fleeting smile before walking away.
His daughter was worried about him. And not just about him. Penny seemed to worry about everything. She tried her best to command the events around her, fighting hard tonever lose control. Rodney had seen signs of the trait after the death of her mother, but it had worsened in recent years. And after Brad died . . .
He gave his head a shake, driving off the thought. If he wasnât careful, he would find himself doing exactly what Penny did. Instead of worrying, he chose to say another silent prayer, this one for his daughter, asking God to heal her heart.
âMerry Christmas, Rodney.â
He looked to his right and watched Joe Dodson, the contractor heâd worked for off and on for many years, close the final steps between them. âSame to you, Joe. Havenât seen you around much. How are you?â
âGood, thanks. And you?â The manâs eyes said it was more than a casual question, more than an inquiry about the state of his health.
âIâm all right, Joe. Some days are better than others, but Iâm doing all right.â
âGlad to hear it.â Joe looked away at the sound of someone calling his name. âLooks like Sueâs done shopping.â His gaze returned to Rodney. âIâm wrapping up a job down in Boise. When itâs done, Iâll give you a call.â
Rodney nodded before his friend hurried after his wife. Then, resolute, he faced the candy booth once again. It wouldnât be the Christmas season without at least one square of Ednaâs fudge, and he sure hoped he wasnât too late to get it.
Hours later, Penny dropped onto a folding chair, exhausted. âOver for another year,â she said to herself, then groaned.
âEverything ran like clockwork, Penny.â Janet Dunn sat on another folding chair nearby. âYou have amazing organizational skills.â
âMust be the librarian in me.â Penny was too tired to laugh at her own comment.
âYou could be right about that.â Janet looked toward the opposite end of the fellowship hall. A tender smile curved her mouth and her face shone with love.
Penny didnât have to look to know the cause. The Reverend Tom Butler and Janetâboth of them in their forties and never marriedâhad recently become engaged. About time too . They had been dating for around two years, and anybody with eyes had known, long before this, that they belonged
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