Forbidden Falls (Virgin River #9)(6)

She stiffened and lifted her chin. “I want to do the Lord’s work,” she said tightly. “I’ll willingly carry any load the Lord entrusts me with.”

Noah briefly wondered if Mrs. Hatchet thought he had workmen’s comp for when she threw out her back or took a tumble off a ladder. “Well, that’s admirable, but in this case the Lord’s work is going to be dirty, messy and the only praying will probably be for Bengay.”

He saw her to the door with a promise to be in touch.

The next applicant looked physically better suited to the hard work ahead and she was more than willing to pitch in, no matter how difficult or dirty the work. Rachael Nagel was in her midforties, a rancher’s wife who’d done her share of lifting and hauling, but she was a little scary. She had that pinched look of disapproval and began questioning him before he could get a word in edgewise. “You’re not going to be one of those liberal preachers, are you?”

Liberal was just about his middle name. Noah’s father was all about fire and brimstone, hell and damnation, and was probably the main reason Noah was not. “Um, I’ve been considered liberal by some, conservative by others. Tell me, Mrs. Nagel, do you by chance play the piano or organ?”

“Never had time for anything frivolous with a ranch to run, but I raised seven children with a firm hand. I can make sure the doctrine of the church is followed to the letter.”

“What a wonderful gift,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“You oughtn’t keep a dog like that in the church,” she pointed out. “You’re gonna end up with problems.”

“And where do you suggest I keep her?” he asked.

“Since you don’t have land, you could get an outdoor kennel. Or tie it to a tree.”

Noah knew right then Mrs. Nagel wouldn’t work out.

His third applicant was Ellie Baldwin. Noah was sitting behind his desk when she walked into his ramshackle office. He paused before managing to get to his feet to greet her. She looked young, early twenties at best. And tall—almost six feet—without her shoes and hair. Most of that six feet was legs, which were sticking a long way out of a short flouncy skirt, her feet slipped into high-heeled sandals. She had very big hair, a ton of coppery curls that were streaked with gold and that fell to her shoulders and down her back. Not only was her yellow sweater tight and revealing, but a little bit of her purple bra was showing at the low décolletage…on purpose. This was a look he’d been seeing for a while—this showing of the bra, a push-up bra no less. He couldn’t deny it was a lovely sight, but he didn’t usually see this immodest style in a church.

She had a crinkled-up piece of newspaper in her hand. “I’m looking for Reverend Kincaid,” she said.

“I’m Noah Kincaid. How do you do?”

“You’re—”

“The pastor. And you must be Miss Baldwin.”

Her eyelashes were thick with black liner and mascara, her cheeks rouged, her lips red and glossy, her nails long and painted blue with sparkles, and a glance down those long legs revealed the polish on her toes matched her fingertips. She smiled at him when she came into the room. Then she turned away abruptly to take the gum out of her mouth, though he couldn’t tell where it went. But the image of her smile was immediately tattooed on his mind—it was beautiful. Also hopeful. But what was she thinking, coming to a job interview in a small-town church dressed all honky-tonk? And he thought, Aw, Jesus. Why me?

He stuck out his hand, hoping a wad of gum wouldn’t be left in it. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” she said. “Have you filled the job yet?”

“I have a couple of promising applicants. But let’s talk about the job,” he said. He had a twinge of guilt—no way could he, a single minister of thirty-five, hire someone like this. People would never understand. Or worse, they’d assume they did understand. This interview was going to be a waste of time.

“Awww, is that your dog?” she asked, smiling down at Lucy.

“Meet Lucy,” he said. At the sound of her name, she lifted her head.

“Is she really old? She looks very tired.”

“She’s recovering from a bad accident. I found her by the side of the road and, presto, I became her new owner,” he said. “The job,” he went on, “isn’t limited to office work. As you can see, there’s a lot of renovation and repair going on here. This church won’t be ready for a congregation until some very heavy and very dirty work gets done. A couple of months’ worth, at least.”

She nodded. “Right,” she said. “Fine.”

His eyebrows lifted. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you look kind of fragile for that kind of work.”

She laughed and her whole face brightened. “Is that so? Well, this fragile girl has cleaned up a lot of dumps and lifted more than her share of heavy stuff, Your Reverence.”

He cleared his throat. “It’s Noah. Please. I’m not the pope.”

“I know that,” she scoffed. “I was being funny.”

“Ah. And so you were,” he admitted. “So, not only do I need an office set up and some appointment, phone, and calendar management, but also help with moving furniture, painting, cleaning, et cetera.”