Kate Welsh - Home to Safe Harbor

“I also want to thank you all for making my young friend feel welcome and for proving Thomas Wolfe wrong. You really can go home again, and we’re all glad she’s come back to us. The ladies of the Safe Harbor Women’s League have put together a little luncheon to officially welcome Reverend Clemens. Won’t you join us in the church hall?”

Justine blindly followed Reverend Burns out of the sanctuary and down the steps that led to the first-floor basement and the church hall. The morning light streamed through the high arched windows and fell on the mural the church’s administrative assistant, Kit Peters, had recently done on the side wall. Justine felt a little peace descend on her troubled soul as she gazed at the pastoral scene of trees and rolling hills and the distant flock of sheep tended by a gentle-eyed Jesus.

There was a lot of activity and laughter in the kitchen at the far end of the room, where an array of beverages was already set out on the stainless-steel counter between the hall and kitchen. Folding tables and chairs were scattered around the highly polished hardwood floor. A giant banner stretched above the kitchen pass-through read Welcome Home to Safe Harbor.

Of course, she’d been back in Safe Harbor for six months. She’d returned to her hometown for the first time in ten years to answer a call for help from Reverend Burns—a call that couldn’t have come at a better time. The day before he’d contacted her asking her to fill in for him, she’d gotten upsetting news. The inner-city Chicago church where she’d served since divinity school had decided to hire a much younger and less experienced minister—a man—to replace the retiring pastor. What had distressed her the most was that the recommendation had come from the pastor to whom she’d been an assistant for ten years.

She had been hurt and seeking God’s guidance when Reverend Burns called asking for her help. She’d talked to him earlier in the week and he’d mentioned the possibility of needing surgery, but then he’d fallen while trying to help in the search for one of Holly Douglas’s five-year-old twin boys. Little Aidan had gotten lost on the nature trails in a sudden early-March snowstorm. Aidan was found, and the accident had seemed an answer to prayers, for Justine as well as for Reverend Burns. It had given her the chance to gain perspective and to rediscover the peace and love of her hometown.

She loved Reverend Burns like a father. Certainly more than she did her own faithless father. The reverend had led her to the Lord in her rebellious youth, and his kindly guidance had influenced her to pursue a vocation in ministry. But now, standing at what was supposed to be a celebration of her new position, Justine felt only hurt and disappointed by her mentor and friend. Following his lead, she took off her robe and hung it in the closet, still hiding her inner turmoil.

What are you telling me, Lord?

The hall filled quickly and everyone was in the mood to celebrate. Everyone but Justine. She somehow managed to keep a bright face on, as one after another, members of the congregation stopped to congratulate her on her new position.

“You’re upset,” Reverend Burns said when he returned to her side about half an hour later with coffee for them. His brows were drawn together in a worried frown.

Justine started and felt a blush heat her face. If he knew, did everyone know?

“Relax. I doubt anyone else noticed, but I know you too well to be fooled by that pasted-on smile. What is it, dear?”

Justine had never been able to hide the truth from Reverend Burns, not from that first day he’d caught her cutting school and enjoying a cigarette behind the gazebo in Safe Harbor Park with her new friends.

“I thought you asked me to stay on to be your assistant.”

Reverend Burns’s eyebrows climbed, further laddering his lined forehead. “That’s exactly what you will be.”

Justine turned the plaque she still held toward him. “But it’s a ministry limited to women and children.”

The older man sighed, shaking his head slightly. “You’re still seeing the glass half-empty, Justine. You are an absolute wonder with the teens and younger women, not to mention the little ones. You relate to them in a way I find I no longer can. They make up a good portion of the congregation. I want them going to you for help. You can do a lot of good.”

She was embarrassed by what sounded like selfish motives. “I feel as if it’s happening again.” The words tumbled out. “I thought I was being put in position to take your place one day. And I know you and the board wouldn’t have limited the scope of my ministry if you had confidence in me that I could replace you. It feels like Chicago all over again.”

“But it isn’t the same, and we do have confidence in you,” Reverend Burns said gently. “Don’t let the human failings of some of God’s servants take your eyes and trust off Him. And seek His plan for your life, dear, not your own. I very much fear that is what you’ve been doing all along.” He held up his hand to stop her automatic defense. “I’m not saying your call to the ministry wasn’t real. I’m saying that maybe He has something for you that you’re blind to. I don’t know what His plan is, but for now, why not do the job He’s sent you and see what comes of it?”

Justine nodded jerkily, trying to hold back the emotions that surged in her. She could see the wisdom in his words, but following his advice would be a challenge.

“Excuse me, Reverend Clemens. Reverend Burns.” A deep voice interrupted her struggle for composure. “I wonder if I might have a word with you before the kids descend on us.”

Past hurts and new ones flew out of Justine’s mind when she followed the sound of that husky voice to a point just over her head.

It was him.

At five foot ten, she wasn’t used to looking up at many people. At least, not as far as she had to look up right now. She found herself snared by eyes an even deeper brown than her own. They were nearly obsidian.

For weeks she’d seen Matthew Trent around town and in church, and now she had a voice to put with that hauntingly handsome face. A dangerous combination of tall, dark and gorgeous, he was the new chief of police, and he distracted Justine every time she noticed him. Once, even in the middle of a sermon!

No man had ever affected her the way he did. No man had ever taken her eyes off her ministry, or made her heart pump harder with the simple sound of his voice. She watched as Reverend Burns turned to him with a friendly smile.

“Chief Trent, what can we do for you?”

“Actually, I wondered if one or both of you might be able to give me a little advice regarding a sixteen-year-old and trouble.”

Reverend Burns held up his hand. “No time like the present to bow to the younger generation. I’ll leave you to Justine’s wisdom. There’s a reason we hired her and this is it.”

“But you know I still rely on your guidance,” she protested, slightly alarmed at the thought of being alone with Matthew Trent. Justine took a fortifying breath, trying to still her pounding heart. What was wrong with her? They were in a room with more than a hundred people. Instead of protesting further, she forced a smile and nodded toward some empty tables in the far corner of the reception room.

“Would you mind sitting, Chief Trent?” she asked, hoping that with a table between her and the former FBI agent she would feel less distracted and intimidated by him. Calm and cool, he clearly didn’t experience any of the terrifying feelings in her presence that she felt in his.

“Please. Make it Matt,” he said, and moved toward the nearest empty table.

She was tempted not to respond in kind, wanting the distance her ministerial title gave her, but she knew that wouldn’t be right. Trying to ignore Matthew Trent’s blatant masculinity, Justine followed him to the table he’d chosen.