Read Online Makin' Miracles by Lin Stepp - Free Book Online Page B

with cows and goats, misty mountains rising in the distance on either side. Plus that picturesque old brick church we passed back up the road. I definitely want to come back here to take some shots of that.”
    Zola reached over to put a hand on his knee affectionately. “I’m glad you like it here, Spencer. I always have. And that old brick church is the Jonas Creek Missionary Alliance Church. I’ll take you to visit one Sunday if you’d like. My best friend, Rachel Lee Upton Howard, goes to church there. She plays the piano every Sunday and sings solo occasionally. She’s really good, too. Her daddy, Pastor K. T. Upton, is the minister there.”
    â€œIf I visit, will you go with me?” He slowed the car over a rut in the road as he asked.
    She grinned. “Sure. But you’ll find it’s very different from Highland Cumberland Presbyterian.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œLivelier. Less formal. Louder. More fervent and passionate in the worship style. And the gifts might flow.”
    He shrugged. “Won’t scare me. It sounds like one of the churches over on Daufuskie or like Aston Parker’s AME Zion church in Savannah I often visited.”
    Zola pointed Spencer toward the driveway that pulled off to her grandparents’ rambling white farmhouse. She studied him discreetly out of the corner of her eye. Interesting little aspects about Spencer Jackson seemed to continue popping out unexpectedly all the time.
    She looked across at him; he was dressed in a neat white shirt again. The shirt was tucked into khaki slacks with a jacket to match for church. Only his long, sun-dipped hair, tied back neatly with a leather string, gave away the artistic, independent streak she knew she’d seen in him.
    Zola smiled at him. “Maybe we’ll talk some more about your interesting church experiences another time.”
    â€œMaybe,” he said, parking the car and opening the door.

CHAPTER 6
    S pencer found himself quickly enveloped into the bosom of Zola’s family as soon as he entered the Devon house. Enveloped was the best word to describe the experience in Spencer’s way of thinking. Her family was a boisterous, talkative, hugging sort of group that seemed to encircle him in their warmth. He’d traveled and been around many kinds of people as a photographer—but experiences like this were always striking. It made Spencer want to capture it on film. But he didn’t think it possible. It was why he’d never delved more deeply into documentary photography or candid portraiture as some great photographers had done. He didn’t feel capable of capturing emotions like this; he couldn’t get detached enough from the experience. He liked to revel in it too much, to watch it, to listen to it. It was fascinating.
    Zola’s aunt, Becky Rae, slapped her knee as she talked now. “Lord in heaven, I couldn’t believe that dress Dora Hensley had on today. Those were the most bodacious flowers in that fabric design I’ve ever seen in all my born days. And on those hips of hers, they jiggled like Jell-O.”
    â€œNow, Becky Rae.” Nana chided her. “Let’s not be uncharitable. Besides, you’re not exactly a skinny woman yourself.”
    â€œNo. But I do know how to dress for my weight.” She heaved a sigh. “I just do not understand how some women don’t show a lick of sense in the dresses they pick out for themselves.”
    â€œIf they all wore pant suits most of them would look better,” Stacy interjected. She’d changed out of the dress she’d worn to church earlier and now wore old jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Stacy was what Bowden would have called a tomboy or, in a less kind moment, a geek. But Spencer already liked her. He guessed Stacy and Zola might be near the same age.
    The Devon family were all sitting around the big dining room now, enjoying coffee, homemade caramel cake, and