Read Online Too Little, Too Late by Victoria Christopher Murray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Christopher Murray
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couch.
“So, how are you?” Pastor Case asked.
Hosea sat back. Kept his eyes trained on the pastor. But his glance kept shifting to the woman next to him. It was just jeans and a simple sweater that she wore. And her hair was tucked under a leather cap. But she was as elegant today as she’d been when she’d first taken his breath away.
“I feel really good,” Natasia said.
She spoke, but Hosea’s glance stayed on the pastor.
“I know grief is a spirit,” she continued, “and I’m determined to walk away from this place.”
Hosea tried to remember all that he’d learned in his Ministry and Ethics class.
“I think the thing that’s slowed me down a bit,” Natasia said, “is the way Doug died.”
Hosea wanted to close his eyes. But not even that would keep her image away. I’m not supposed to be thinking like this . But it was difficult to remember that he was a minister when she sat so close. She was clearly a woman. Who reminded him that he was a man.
The minutes crept by. Pastor Case questioned. Natasia responded. And Hosea sweated, his eyes on the clock.
Finally, “Well, we can call it an evening,” Pastor Case said. He’d barely spoken those words before the telephone rang.
As the pastor rushed to answer, Natasia stood. She glanced at Hosea, bit the corner of her lip. Smiled, then turned away. He smiled back, and turned his attention to his hands.
She whispered, “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”
He watched her dash from the room. Only then did he exhale. Maybe counseling wasn’t for him. Or maybe it was just counseling Natasia that was the problem.
“Oh, boy,” Pastor Case said as he rushed toward his closet. “This rain has caused havoc on my roof. It’s leaking.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Nope.” He grabbed his coat. “Where’s Natasia?”
“In the ladies’ room.”
“Would you mind seeing that she gets to her car and then locking up here?”
“Sure, Pastor.”
“Okay, son. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Hosea waited, paced, and reminded himself that he was the minister.
“Where’s Pastor Case?”
She’d been gone for just minutes, but Hosea marveled at how much more beautiful she seemed. She’d done nothing—just looked better with the passing of time.
“Pastor had an emergency at home.”
“Oh.” It was a long stare that she gave him. Then, like before, she turned away. She slipped into her coat, and said, “Looks like it’s still coming down out there.”
“Yeah; are you okay driving?”
She nodded. “I’m from Chicago. I’ve driven in much worse than this. Plus, I actually love the rain. To me, it’s God’s way of just washing us up a little.”
He grinned. “I’ll never look at the rain the same way again.”
She grabbed her umbrella. He clicked off the lights and followed her out. At the door, they stood together, watching the rain pummel the earth.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll hold the umbrella and we’ll make this dash. Got your keys ready?”
She patted her coat pockets. Frowned, then dug inside her purse. “I can’t find my keys.” After more moments, “Maybe I left them in the car.”
“Okay, let’s check.” Hosea held the umbrella as they darted through puddles to her Volvo. He tested the doors—locked. She checked the windows—closed. They peered inside—no sign of keys. Without a word, they raced back into the church.
“I can’t believe this!” Natasia exclaimed, shaking the water off.
“They’ve got to be here somewhere. I’ll check Pastor’s office. You check the ladies’ room.”
Within minutes she was back, searching through her coat pockets and purse again. “This is ridiculous.” She released a long breath of frustration. Then her eyes widened. “Maybe Pastor Case picked up my keys.” She nodded. “Yes, I dropped them on his desk when I was taking off my coat. He probably picked them up by accident.”
Hosea looked at her. Maybe. “Okay, so I’ll give you a
“So, how are you?” Pastor Case asked.
Hosea sat back. Kept his eyes trained on the pastor. But his glance kept shifting to the woman next to him. It was just jeans and a simple sweater that she wore. And her hair was tucked under a leather cap. But she was as elegant today as she’d been when she’d first taken his breath away.
“I feel really good,” Natasia said.
She spoke, but Hosea’s glance stayed on the pastor.
“I know grief is a spirit,” she continued, “and I’m determined to walk away from this place.”
Hosea tried to remember all that he’d learned in his Ministry and Ethics class.
“I think the thing that’s slowed me down a bit,” Natasia said, “is the way Doug died.”
Hosea wanted to close his eyes. But not even that would keep her image away. I’m not supposed to be thinking like this . But it was difficult to remember that he was a minister when she sat so close. She was clearly a woman. Who reminded him that he was a man.
The minutes crept by. Pastor Case questioned. Natasia responded. And Hosea sweated, his eyes on the clock.
Finally, “Well, we can call it an evening,” Pastor Case said. He’d barely spoken those words before the telephone rang.
As the pastor rushed to answer, Natasia stood. She glanced at Hosea, bit the corner of her lip. Smiled, then turned away. He smiled back, and turned his attention to his hands.
She whispered, “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”
He watched her dash from the room. Only then did he exhale. Maybe counseling wasn’t for him. Or maybe it was just counseling Natasia that was the problem.
“Oh, boy,” Pastor Case said as he rushed toward his closet. “This rain has caused havoc on my roof. It’s leaking.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Nope.” He grabbed his coat. “Where’s Natasia?”
“In the ladies’ room.”
“Would you mind seeing that she gets to her car and then locking up here?”
“Sure, Pastor.”
“Okay, son. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Hosea waited, paced, and reminded himself that he was the minister.
“Where’s Pastor Case?”
She’d been gone for just minutes, but Hosea marveled at how much more beautiful she seemed. She’d done nothing—just looked better with the passing of time.
“Pastor had an emergency at home.”
“Oh.” It was a long stare that she gave him. Then, like before, she turned away. She slipped into her coat, and said, “Looks like it’s still coming down out there.”
“Yeah; are you okay driving?”
She nodded. “I’m from Chicago. I’ve driven in much worse than this. Plus, I actually love the rain. To me, it’s God’s way of just washing us up a little.”
He grinned. “I’ll never look at the rain the same way again.”
She grabbed her umbrella. He clicked off the lights and followed her out. At the door, they stood together, watching the rain pummel the earth.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll hold the umbrella and we’ll make this dash. Got your keys ready?”
She patted her coat pockets. Frowned, then dug inside her purse. “I can’t find my keys.” After more moments, “Maybe I left them in the car.”
“Okay, let’s check.” Hosea held the umbrella as they darted through puddles to her Volvo. He tested the doors—locked. She checked the windows—closed. They peered inside—no sign of keys. Without a word, they raced back into the church.
“I can’t believe this!” Natasia exclaimed, shaking the water off.
“They’ve got to be here somewhere. I’ll check Pastor’s office. You check the ladies’ room.”
Within minutes she was back, searching through her coat pockets and purse again. “This is ridiculous.” She released a long breath of frustration. Then her eyes widened. “Maybe Pastor Case picked up my keys.” She nodded. “Yes, I dropped them on his desk when I was taking off my coat. He probably picked them up by accident.”
Hosea looked at her. Maybe. “Okay, so I’ll give you a
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