Sweet Caroline(30)
Yet what I sense today is . . . well . . . holy.
“Darlene Campbell, Jesus knows your past and He loves you.” She’s a highbrow lawyer who prides herself on civic duty. But this morning, she weeps.
The pressure inside me bubbles and builds. Tears swell behind my eyes, but I refuse to release them. I’m fearful Pastor O’Neal will call my name, yet terrified he won’t. What if this all-knowing, all-seeing God doesn’t love me?
“We’re leaving,” I whisper to Mitch, speaking for J. D. and me. The man’s halfway out of the pew anyway.
With his eyes still closed, Mitch grabs at my arm. “No, wait.”
“Caroline Sweeney . . .” My head snaps up. Pastor O’Neal has zeroed in on me. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for years: Jesus loves you. Passionately. Since you were a little girl waiting for a pink room with blue clouds.”
My heart explodes, knocking the breath right out of me. A spark ignites on top of my head and runs down my face and neck, setting my torso on fire.
How did he know?
“Do you believe, Caroline?” Pastor asks.
Is he still talking to me?
“Caroline, do you believe He loves you?”
Slowly, I rise to my feet. J. D. settles back while Mitch bends forward, hands clasped over his head. “I-I don’t know.”
Pastor O’Neal is not rattled. “Fair enough.”
The moment all eyes are not on me, I stumble over J. D., exiting the pew and making for the sanctuary doors.
DAILY SPECIAL
Monday, June 25
Mushroom & Ham Casserole
Yellow Squash and Onions
Bubba’s Buttery Biscuits
Ice cream
Tea, Soda, Coffee
$6.99
14
L et’s go over the Carrington plan one more time.”Andy groans. I’m sure he would love to leap over the prep table and strangle me. He tugs his white beanie low on his forehead. “Caroline, we’ve gone over and over the plan. Honey, we’re set. Stop fretting.”
“Did you see her face when she talked about this party? We— I can’t screw this up.”
“You ordered the food and supplies, right?” Andy thumps his fore-finger on the paper in front of me.
“I created an account with Sysco this morning and ordered with my credit card. Might as well bring our ordering into the twenty-first century.”
He shoves his beanie back on his head. “Sounds good. Now, I best be getting home. Gloria went back to work today and I want to help out with supper in case she’s all tuckered out.” He strides for the back door. “Sure did my heart good to see you in church.”
“Thanks for embarrassing me. I meant to fire you for it.”
“Well, so glad you didn’t, boss. Mighty Christian of you.” Chuckling, Andy bids me good night.
J. D.’s cruiser swings into the parking lot Monday evening as I step out of the carriage house on my way to meet Elle and Jess at Firehouse Books & Espresso Bar.
“Hey, beautiful.” He pops open his door. “Want to grab some dinner?” His brown eyes bore into mine as he wraps his arm around my back and hugs me against his bulky bulletproof vest. “You recovered from yesterday?”
“I’ve recovered.”
After we sped away from church, J. D. rode with me out to Daddy’s, where we launched my old boat, Bluecloud, and drifted on the Coosaw River for several hours. Daddy built the boat the year Mama left for good, keeping his hands busy so his mind wouldn’t go crazy. At night I’d lay awake as long as I could, peering out the window at the light coming from under the garage’s old swinging doors. Eventually, I’d drift off, then wake with a start to find the light still burning as darkness rounded the corner of night and faded toward the dawn.
But J. D. had no answers for my questions. Like, how did Pastor O’Neal know about the pink room with blue clouds?
“Maybe Mitch told him.”
I slumped down against the side of the boat, pillowing my head against a life jacket. “I’m not sure Mitch ever knew.”
J. D. cradles my jaw in his hands. “I had a good time yesterday, out in the boat.”
“Me too.” I hook my hands over his arms and he steps closer.
“Is it okay with you if—”
“Yes.”
J. D.’s very kissable lips touch mine. Soft, tentative, then fierce.
When he lifts his head, I inhale sharply. “Y-you s-sure know how to . . . ahem . . . That was worth the wait.”
He brushes his hands over my shoulders. “I about kissed you a hundred times in the boat yesterday, but every time I went to make my move, the boat rocked or you started spouting off about God again.”
“Sorry, mental processing includes running my mouth.”
“Caroline, I’m not sure Mitch is over you.”
“J. D., he is way over me. We’re just good friends.”
“I don’t know. He gave you a look yesterday . . .”
“Are you jealous?”
“Maybe.” Dispatch beckons J. D.’s attention. Still holding me, he cocks his head to listen. “I’ve got to go.” He kisses me again with tender purpose. “Let’s finish this thing later.”