Forbidden Falls (Virgin River #9)(14)

The whole idea of considering going back to the seminary came from George, who described it as a combination of dredging the soul for the innermost spirituality, personal faith, teaching, counseling, community and theater. Only George could come up with a combination like that. “You’ve had those leanings anyway,” George had said. “Just check it out.”

“But I will never preach,” Noah said.

“Not that many ordained ministers do,” George said with a shrug. “They’re therapists, minister to sick and needy folk, teach—there are more options than I can list. But along the way you might find out a thing or two about yourself. No harm there.”

In short, Noah was convinced. During his studies, he found out he was meant to try to hold a group of believers together in faith, to lend a hand, to communicate, to educate, to bring hope. To be a friend. There was only one thing that was required of him that he could not do—and that was to forgive his father.

Just last year his mother passed. She had slipped away in the night, having had a stroke at the age of seventy. Noah attended the funeral, even though he hated the idea of seeing his father. But it was the only time in Noah’s life he could remember having the last word with his dad.

Jasper said to him, within the hearing of many others, “Do you see what leaving the family and the faith did? It killed your mother.”

Without missing a beat, Noah replied, “You should be aware that Mother and I have been in touch ever since I left home. She visited twice even though I wouldn’t come back. She was always there for me and we loved one another profoundly. The truth is, I think staying with you was what killed her.”

The shock on his father’s face was priceless; and the insult bit Jasper deep. It had obviously never occurred to Jasper that his wife would keep secrets from him. Maybe it was just that he paid so little attention to her, he was unaware that she kept a close relationship with her son. The reading of the will hammered Jasper with a few more home truths—Inez Kincaid had brought a trust fund to her marriage to a poor preacher who was ten years her junior. Her personal wealth had helped Jasper build a big following, televise his services, evangelize and collect members. She willed half of the fund to Noah. Jasper had expected to receive all of it.

And now Noah was going to run through a great deal of his inheritance fixing up this old church.

He looked in the direction of the kitchen. Another free spirit, he admitted to himself. In a completely different form.

There was a crash, a splash, and Ellie said, “Fuck.”

Lucy came to her feet and Noah looked up. “Very funny,” he said to God. “That kind of thing isn’t going to go over well.” Then he walked to the kitchen, Lucy beside him.

He stood in the doorway and watched as Ellie used the rag mop to try to capture the flood that resulted from a tipped bucket. But that wasn’t where his focus was—he frowned and looked at his watch. The morning had passed without him even realizing it. He’d been completely lost in thought. And while he’d been thinking of his past and patching wall cracks, Ellie had been working like a demon.

The huge, restaurant-size kitchen almost glowed. The floor had been swept, mopped, and was being mopped again. She’d done some things that had made an enormous difference—the high windows were cleaned and spotless, the frames scrubbed of dust, spiderwebs and dirt. The countertops were scoured and disinfected. The cupboards were washed out with their doors standing open. The few remaining kitchenware items that had been abandoned were washed and drying in a dish drain she’d found; all four deep sinks were scrubbed clean, the faucets shining. The room didn’t look like new, but it was clean and fresh and ready for painting and flooring.

She squeezed her mop, straightened and wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing up a curl that just bounced back to hang over one eye. She blew out of her lower lip to cool her face, making that curl flutter in her breath. “Let me guess,” she said. “You heard me say f**k. Sorry. I’ll try not to say it. But I bet if you’d dumped a big pail of nasty mop water on your clean floor, you would have said f**k, too.”

He laughed and just shook his head. “Maybe. It looks good in here, Ellie. Who knew you could do something like this with long, blue, sparkly fingernails.”

“I figured you meant for me to clean it, so I cleaned it.”

“It’s fantastic. I bet you’re hungry. It’s after one.”

She got a very strange look on her face, as though a thought just came to mind or she’d forgotten something. Then she just continued mopping. “Nah, I don’t think I could eat. I really pigged out on pizza last night and I’m still stuffed.”

“I’m going next door for a sandwich. Come with me.”

“Nah, go on. I’ll just finish up here. If I do a good job, maybe you’ll let me out of here early or something. I have to get looking for a new place to live.”

“You can leave whenever you’ve had enough—you’ve done an incredible job. I’ve been chipping away at the dirt in this place for weeks and it looks like you conquered it in no time at all.”

She straightened again. She pushed that curl back. Her neck and chest were damp with perspiration, which made her look even sexier. She smiled almost shyly. “I cleaned office buildings and sometimes houses for cash—under the table. One of my many second jobs. I don’t think it was listed on that sheet of jobs.”