Terri Reed - Giving Thanks for Baby

“Your sister must love to have you babysit,” Trista commented.

Scott chuckled. “I get asked to babysit a lot. Not only by my siblings’ kids but at church, too.” He shrugged. “I love kids.”

“It shows.” Her heart twisted with yearning for someone like Scott to be an important part of her son’s life. Maybe he could be, as their friend? That might require attending church, but more significantly, letting Scott into her life. She wasn’t sure if she could do either one.

Trista’s attention was snagged by a woman and a young boy as they rose from a nearby table. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was Lynda Matthews—television talk show star Douglas Matthews’s wife—and their son, Logan. Trista gasped softly as the woman turned toward her.

A dark bruise covered one eye from the bottom of her cheekbone to the top of her eyebrow, masking the spattering of freckles on the left side of her face.

Trista jumped up and went to the woman. “Lynda? What happened?”

Lynda’s pale-blue eyes widened in panic. She reached up and tugged at her light-brown bobbed hair as if to cover the mark. Her four-year-old son clung to her hand.

“I—I, uh…” She tried to smile but it looked more like a wince. “Logan has a great pitching arm.”

Trista didn’t buy the lie. No way could Logan, a little slip of a boy, throw a baseball hard enough to cause such damage.

Scott joined them, Aidan propped on his hip as though he belonged there, but his jaw had taken on a hard edge. “Hello, Mrs. Matthews. Logan. Would you care to join us?”

Lynda shook her head and clutched at the closed neckline of her button-up blouse with her free hand. “We really should go. Douglas has an interview this morning with the paper and he would…like for us to be home when he gets home.”

Trista had met Douglas Matthews on several occasions. She doubted the self-important man would even notice if his wife and son were home. At the Fourth of July barbecue in Winchester Park, Lynda had indicated she wanted to talk with Trista in a lawyer-client way.

But Lynda had never called.

Clearly something was going on, and Trista wasn’t going to let it slide. “Lynda, would you be interested in having lunch with me one day next week?”

Lynda swallowed. Her gaze shifted around as if checking to see that no one overheard them. Timidly she nodded.

“Do you still have my card?” Trista asked, even as she stepped back to the stroller to find another one.

Lynda took the business card Trista held out with shaky hands. “We should go.”

Trista stopped her with a hand to her arm. Lynda shied away slightly. “Promise me you’ll call. That has all my numbers on it.”

“I’ll try,” Lynda said softly.

“If I don’t hear from you by Thursday, I’ll call you.”

Lynda shook her head. “Oh, no. I’ll call.” She scurried away, her son close to her side.

“Did you believe that story?”

Trista turned to Scott. Worry darkened his eyes. “What do your vibes tell you?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That she’s hiding something. Something not good.”

Trista nodded. “That, Pastor Scott, is an understatement. I’d say her husband did that to her.”

Scott frowned. “I wouldn’t go advertising your suspicion unless you have proof.”

She took offense to his warning to keep quiet. That wasn’t in her nature. She took Aidan from him. “What other explanation could there be?”

Scott shook his head. “I don’t know. I can only pray that it’s not true and that she will get help if it is.”

Hugging Aidan close to still the quiet anger running through her, Trista said, “She’ll get help. I’ll make sure of that.”

Scott smiled. “Spoken like a true avenger.” His expression turned cautious. “Just remember that revenge and vengeance aren’t yours, hers or mine to take.”

Trista refrained from rolling her eyes. “You sound like my brother. He uses scripture on me all the time and he’s not even a pastor.”

Scott’s expression looked so stricken that she laughed.

“Don’t worry, I know Ross is only trying to help me.”

“He loves you,” Scott stated, his gaze still troubled.

“Yes,” she agreed. “And I love him, so I tolerate it.”

“But you won’t tolerate it from me?”

She grinned. “Not yet. We’ve only just met.”

“Would you…” He had the sweetest look of indecision on his face that made Trista want to say yes to whatever he was going to ask just to put him out of his misery.

“Would you want to go to a movie with me tomorrow night?” he finished quickly

Warning bells went off in her head. She wanted to refuse, but her lips wouldn’t let the words out. Wasn’t she planning on going to the theater tomorrow anyway? “Are you asking me on a date?”

For a beat he looked stunned, then slowly shrugged.

“Is that allowed?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“I mean, you’re a pastor. Can you date?”

He chuckled. “Yes. I have a special dispensation.” He winked.

“Oh.” A date? With him? Not a good idea for so many reasons. “I’m not looking for a relationship,” she stated firmly.

He looked relieved. “Neither am I.”

So it wasn’t a date. A burst of irritation surprised her.

“How about if we meet at the cinema,” he continued. “Then it’s just two new friends watching the same movie. Not a date.”

Pushing aside her unsettling annoyance, she nodded, thankful he’d come up with a doable plan. “That would work. I’ll meet you there for the last matinee. I think Ross and Kelly will watch Aidan for me. Could we go see that new thriller everyone has been talking about?”

He grinned. “That’s funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

A little shiver tripped down her spine. Was it coincidence or were they really in tune with each other? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that question.

As Trista pushed Aidan in the stroller back to her apartment, she couldn’t believe she’d agreed to meet a pastor at the movies. Ross was going to laugh until he cried. She’d just have to convince her big brother this was not a date.

Lynda Matthews pulled into the driveway of their large new mansion on the outskirts of town. She couldn’t park in the garage because of her husband’s many cars. Douglas collected vintage roadsters. Just one of many expensive passions.

Like the house. It was too big, showy and a bit garish. Lots of brick and columns and shiny accoutrements that screamed “look at me.” She didn’t like the place, but Douglas had insisted they buy the house when they relocated to town.

It was his money, as he loved to remind her, so she had no say in the matter.

“Come on, honey,” she said to Logan. “Let’s go see if Kay has made something delicious for lunch.”

The inside of the house was just as overdone as the outside. Cold marble flooring, a round marble table with an expensive vase filled with exotic flowers greeted them as they entered. Sometimes Lynda felt as if she were walking into a hotel rather than a home.

She took off her warm wool coat and then helped Logan out of his parka. She laid both on the table.

“Where have you been?”

Lynda froze at her husband’s question. Then with a quick sweep of her hand, she pulled Logan behind her as she turned to face Douglas.

He stood in the doorway of the library off to her right. His six-foot-one frame filled the opening. He still wore the expensive navy suit he’d worn for his TV show Afternoons with Douglas Matthews. He was a handsome man with his jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. The camera and his fans loved him. At one time, Lynda had, as well.