The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(83)

He regretted the action now, but it was done, and nothing could undo it.

He sat on the old mahogany chair, which moaned in protest. Curiosity made him reach for the tattered white binder. He flipped it open and read the first line.

He gasped and wheeled back from his desk as if burned. It was his sermon notes from the Gospel of John. It simply wasn’t possible.

With his very own eyes Paul had seen the sanitation worker empty the Dumpster no more than two or three minutes after he’d emptied his garbage.

Leta Johnson.

Somehow she must have discovered what he’d done and gone after the sanitation truck and convinced them to let her have the binder.

As far as he was concerned, his secretary had overstepped the boundaries of what he considered her duties. She’d stretched the limits of her job description to the breaking point.

Furious in a way he rarely was, he marched across the yard and into the church, past the sanctuary and directly into his office.

Leta looked up from her computer screen when he entered the room.

"You’re fired,” he announced heatedly.

To his utter amazement she didn’t so much as blink. "As I recall, you’ve resigned. In other words, you don’t work here any longer. You can’t fire me.” Without missing a beat, she returned to her typing.

"You got into that Dumpster and—”

She glared at him above the rim of her bifocals. "I beg your pardon?”

"My sermon notes on John’s Gospel.”

"What about them?”

"I threw them out.”

Her eyes widened momentarily with what looked like dismay, but she met his gaze straight on. "You’re saying I did what?”

"Dug them out of the garbage.”

"Oh, puhleese.”

He’d worked with Leta for a lot of years, and never once had she used that tone of voice with him.

"Do you honestly believe I have the time or inclination to follow you around and check every bit of paper you toss? I can tell you I don’t. As for your sermon notes, well, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

All at once Paul felt incredibly foolish. His indignation had carried him this far but had quickly deserted him. He rubbed a hand down his face. Instead of chastising Leta, he should be thanking her for driving into the hills and finding him. Thanking her for serving faithfully as his secretary for these many years.

"I appreciate what you did this morning,” he told her. "Driving to the campground was above and beyond the call of duty.”

"Does this mean I can have my job back?” Leta asked with a soft smile.

Paul grinned and nodded. "Sure thing, but as you said, I don’t have any right to be firing or hiring you.”

Leta held up the envelopes, addressed to the church elders, that contained his letter of registration. "If anything mysteriously disappears into the garbage, it’s going to be these.”

Paul stared at the envelopes for a long time before moving into his own office. He sat behind his desk and looked about the room. It was as familiar and as comfortable as a favorite pair of old shoes.

He leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes. The last twenty-four hours had certainly been full. He’d written out his letter of resignation. Then he’d escaped into the hills and been called back to be with Madge Bartelli when she died.

When he opened his eyes, he found Leta standing in the doorway. "Madge?” she asked softly.

"Gone,” he told her, unable to disguise his regret.

She nodded and swallowed once. Paul knew it was an effort for her not to break into tears. "I’m going to miss her,” Leta whispered.

"We all will.”

"Bethany phoned.” She walked over and placed the pink message slip on his desk. "I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to tell her.”

His daughter was a dear, but she tended to overreact now and again. Her response, had Leta mentioned his resignation, didn’t bear thinking about.

"What did you tell her?” he asked.

"That you’d been called out of town, but that I expected you back any time.”

"Did she press you for details?”

"Is Bethany your daughter?”

"She worries too much.”

Leta didn’t say anything for the longest time. The silence between them was uncomfortable, almost as if it were anticipating something happening.

"You’re feeling better, aren’t you, Paul?”

He needed a moment to think about that. "Yes, I think I am. Being with Madge in the end helped. Good friends helped,” he said, thinking of Steve Tenny.

"Prayer helped,” Leta offered.

"I’m sure I’ve been on many a prayer list.”

"I can’t speak for anyone else, Pastor, but you’ve been on mine.”

"Thank you, Leta.” He opened his desk drawer and reached for a pen. "Two things,” he said. "First off, is that invitation for Christmas dinner still open?”

Leta looked as if she were about to faint. She literally fell onto the chair. "Ah, I’m afraid the Tennys asked me to join them, and I’ve accepted.”

"That’s not a problem, they invited me as well. I’ll phone Steve later and ask if he minds adding one more plate to the dinner table.”