Jenna Mindel - Courting Hope

She flinched. “I can’t work here.”

“I had a feeling you might react this way.”

Hope whirled around and slammed her car door. “But you hired him anyway!”

“It wasn’t my decision alone. We interviewed him last week, and the board unanimously approved Sinclair after Reverend Smythe took a position downstate.”

Hope reveled in the satisfaction that for once, Sinclair had come in second place. But the smug feeling was short-lived. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were on vacation. I love your new hairstyle, by the way.”

Hope shrugged off the compliment. She would have liked to have known about Sinclair. She’d have had time to prepare instead of seeing him out of the blue like this.

Even though she’d grown up with Sinclair and they’d hung around like pals, Hope had never felt comfortable around guys. Growing up with a mouth full of braces and a chest a tad too big made her want to hide. And hide she did—under clothes, hair...even her eyeglasses gave her a sense of protection.

Not anymore. She’d long since gotten rid of the baggy clothes and glasses, and thanks to the prodding of a girlfriend from college, Hope had finally cut her mop of hair. The two of them had spent last week in Toronto shopping and taking in shows.

Hope shifted her stance, wishing she could find a way to hide again. “I’m not going back in there. You’re going to have to find somebody else.”

Judy’s eyes narrowed. “What about the school?”

For years the church had raised money to build an addition for a couple of real classrooms. The extra space would accommodate Sunday school classes and enable them to start a small preschool during the week. Hope also wanted to include a summer program. Too many single moms in the church had too few options during the summer months.

Hope had a dual degree in early education and Spanish. She’d been dreaming about running the educational interests of the church for as long as she could remember. As part of the building project committee, she’d researched state licensing requirements, commercial financing and local builders. The church had been poised to accept bids for construction once the pledges were paid. And then their previous minister had retired early due to health concerns and moved away.

Interim pastors and a wavering church body had stalled the plan. They needed the right man leading the charge to get the project back on track. Sinclair Marsh could not be that man.

“Without you, that school doesn’t stand a chance.”

Hope lifted her chin. “The groundwork’s all there.”

Judy scanned the surrounding fields before focusing back on her. “Sinclair has a new idea that’s less costly. Some of the board members like it. A lot.”

“What kind of new idea?” Hope could only imagine the irresponsible suggestions Sinclair might have.

“A youth center, Hope. He’d like to propose a place for teens to hang out and stay away from trouble.”

“Out here?” Hope sputtered. Had they been in town, she could see the need for something like that. But they were a few miles out. Fruit farms dotted the hills and valleys between older homes, and new subdivisions had been halted because of the downturn in the economy. “That’s a stupid idea.”

“Well, it’s an idea that struck a chord with the board, especially Chuck. We need you here, Hope. I need you.”

She looked into Judy’s earnest gaze, knowing she was sunk. Hope had promised her friend Dorrie that she’d never give up on the preschool, and yet here she was, ready to quit. All because of Sinclair Marsh.

Swallowing hard, Hope thought about another issue. “What about Mom and Dad?”

“I believe with all my heart that God wants Sinclair to lead our church. I can’t say I know why, but it feels right. Maybe in time we’ll figure that out, but right now I pray your parents will give him a chance. I want you to do that, too.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes blurred again. “Not after what happened.”

Judy pulled her into a warm embrace. “No matter the influence, your sister was an adult who made her own choice to do something foolish. I know you miss her, Hope, but harboring unforgiveness toward Sinclair isn’t good for you. It isn’t good for anyone.”

She shook her head against Judy’s strong shoulder. As far as Hope was concerned, Sinclair was the reason she no longer had a sister.

“You’ve got to let it go.”

Hope pulled out of the older woman’s embrace. “How? There isn’t a day that goes by that feels right. Dad misses Sara. I can see it in his eyes. It’s like I’m left with clouds and can’t make the sun shine again.”

“It’s not up to you to make the sun shine for them. They have to find that sunshine on their own.” Judy squeezed her shoulder. “You think about that school. You have a calling for it. Can you really walk away?”

Hope sucked in her bottom lip. Judy knew the right buttons to push. God could work it all out, but what if quitting messed up His plan?

A youth center? Hope had talked Sinclair out of his set course several times when they were kids. Could she do it again?

Judy gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come back when you’re ready.”

Hope watched her mother’s lifelong friend walk away, knowing Judy was right. If she quit now, what chance did Hope have for getting the preschool project back on track? It’d fizzle and die—another dream gone.

An image of the completed addition blazed through her mind. Dorrie and her two girls were part of that image. They needed supervision over the summer break. Lots of kids did. Hope knew the community and its needs. Unfortunately, so did Sinclair. After all, he was a local boy returned home.

Tipping her head back with a groan, Hope stared at the blue sky above. Like it or not, people depended on her and she needed to get back to work.

* * *

Sinclair took in the small space of his barren office. He had a desk, a couple chairs and a bookshelf. He could easily see Hope’s empty desk from his. The church offices had been situated along the side of the basement opposite the kitchen and an open area used for Sunday school and probably fellowship dinners. He had a nice-sized window with a view of hayfields, and beyond the parking lot, cherry orchards covered the hills and more fields.

He spotted Hope pacing. She’d changed since the last time he’d seen her. A family member’s death did that to a person on some level, but he also detected a confidence in her that he didn’t remember. Her outward appearance was different, too—so different, it had taken him a couple minutes to recognize her.

Hope had slimmed down, losing her college freshman fifteen and then some. With her bushy long hair cut into a short cap of dusky waves, she looked good. Maybe too good. And they’d be working together.

He’d searched online for ministry positions in northern Michigan for months. There were three churches in his hometown of LeNaro, but the only pastoral staff opening had been here—a community church three miles north of town and smack in the middle of cherry farm country.

He should have known that Hope might still work in this office. She’d worked here through college, but she’d been planning to go to Spain the summer he’d left. He never thought to ask about her during his interview.

He stepped away from the window. Knowing Hope ran the office wouldn’t have made a lick of difference in his decision. He’d come home to make amends for his past. If he faced an uphill battle, it was no less than he deserved.

His brother Ryan barely spoke to him, and Hope still blamed him for Sara’s death. He could see it in her eyes. Her pretty gray eyes that were no longer hidden behind Coke-bottle glasses.