The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(24)

Joe wasn’t sure he did, but he nodded anyway.

"With you coming home for the holidays and all, I decided to wait. I was hoping you might know something I don’t.”

"I wish there was something I could tell you,” Joe said, at a loss.

"This morning is a perfect example,” the secretary continued. "I don’t have a clue where Pastor Morris might be. He hasn’t even come into the office, and there’s a meeting of the elders at two. What am I supposed to tell them if he doesn’t show?”

Joe hadn’t a clue. Leta Johnson looked at him with wide, beseeching eyes, and he felt he had to say something. "Let me think about this, Mrs. Johnson. I’ll get back to you.”

"Thank you, Joe,” she said, and sounded relieved.

Joe left the church, his head buzzing. He returned to the house and found Annie in the kitchen, washing dishes. She’d wiped down the countertops and cleared the mess off the table. It seemed with his mother gone, his father used the tabletop and counters as a filing cabinet. Odds and ends of mail were tucked in every conceivable corner. This troubled Joe, since he’d always known his father to be neat and orderly.

"I can’t find my dad,” he told Annie.

"I heard him come back to the house early this morning. Maybe he’s still in bed.”

"No,” Joe said, growing concerned, "I already checked.”

"Just a minute,” Annie said, gazing out the kitchen window. "I think that might be your dad outside. It looks like he’s in the garage.”

"The garage?” Joe asked. He gave Annie a puzzled look and wandered outside. Annie followed.

Sure enough, his father was busy sorting through a stack of cardboard boxes that had been in precisely that spot for fifteen or more years.

"Dad?”

"Howdy, Joe,” Paul said cheerfully. "Annie.” He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater.

"What are you doing?” Joe asked, not knowing what to think.

Paul laughed and braced his hands against his hips. "What does it look like? I’m cleaning out this mess. I’ve got more junk than some of those disposal centers. It’s time to clear some of this garbage out of here.”

"Today?”

"Why not? It seemed like a perfectly good day to do a little cleaning.”

Joe looked over to where his father had set their fishing gear. "I put that aside for you,” his dad said, pointing toward the two poles. "You should take that stuff with you.”

"But why?”

His father gave him an odd look, then leaned over and sorted through another stack of boxes, lifting one and then another. "I hear there’s good fishing in Seattle.”

"Dad,” Joe said, not understanding any of this. "Mrs. Johnson said you have an elders’ meeting this afternoon.”

Paul straightened and frowned. "The meeting’s this afternoon?”

"That’s what she said. You haven’t been into the office yet.”

Paul Morris rotated his shoulders. "I meant to get over there earlier, then got sidetracked. I’ll wash up now and meet with the elders.”

He walked past Joe on his way into the house.

"Joe.” Annie pressed her hand to his forearm. "What’s wrong with your father?”

"I don’t know. But I think I’d better phone my sister. Maybe she’ll know what to do.”

"I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Maureen mumbled as she shifted papers outside of her briefcase and set them on the car seat next to her. It was no small exaggeration to say she’d practically rearranged her entire work schedule to fit Karen’s riding lessons into her already full week.

For the next several weeks Tuesday and Thursday afternoons would be a nightmare for her. She had to leave the bank at two, which meant she had to arrive at six in the morning. She was forced into giving up half her usual lunch hour as well in order to make up for time away from her desk. In addition, she brought her work home with her.

No sane woman would do this. Only a mother would agree to a schedule like this. A desperate mother.

On the bright side, Karen hadn’t woken once with a nightmare from the moment Maureen had casually mentioned Nichols’s Riding Stables. If the remedy for Karen’s bad dreams was a few riding lessons, then Maureen would gladly shorten her lunch hour for the rest of her life.

Uncomfortable working in her car, Maureen shifted her position numerous times. She managed to prop her calculator on the dashboard and shuffle papers around her steering wheel in order to make notes where needed.

Two minutes after their arrival, Karen had disappeared inside the barn, looking for Thom Nichols’s daughter and the new kittens. Maureen would have followed her, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to go traipsing into unknown territory in two-inch heels. Apparently Karen knew where she was headed.

Maureen was just beginning to think it might do her good to get out of the car and stretch her legs when a knock sounded against the car window.

Thom Nichols stood outside, his profile silhouetted against the last of the sunlight. Her heart did an immediate somersault, and not because he’d frightened her. It wasn’t that she was attracted to him, she told herself. The cowboy fantasy, along with everything else romantic, had died a slow, painful death with Brian’s deceit.