Light from the oncoming car pierced the night, spreading in an ever-widening swath across the pavement behind her as it approached. She had to hide. But where?

The deeper darkness of a recessed doorway appeared on her left. She darted up the short flight of stairs, then wedged against the side wall as a long black car pulled up to the intersection. She grabbed the doorknob and gave it a violent twist. The latch clicked back as the gleam of the headlights threw her shadow against the painted wood. At that moment, she yanked the door open and leaped inside the building. She slammed the door closed and collapsed against it, her chest heaving with silent sobs.

“Good evening.”

She jerked upright as an elderly man smiled and handed her a leaflet. In the center of the cover was a large cross with the word Crossroads emblazoned on the horizontal bar.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat. She was in a church. Of all places!

DOROTHY CLARK

is a creative person. She lives in a home she designed and helped her husband build (she swings a mean hammer!) with the able assistance of their three children. She also designs and helps her husband build furniture, and does remodeling and decorating for family and friends. When she is not thus engaged, she can be found cheering her grandchildren on at various sports events or band and chorus concerts, or furiously taking notes about possible settings for future novels as she and her husband travel throughout the United States and Canada. Hosea’s Bride is Dorothy’s debut novel. Her first historical romance, Beauty for Ashes, will be a June 2004 release from Steeple Hill Women’s Fiction. Dorothy enjoys hearing from her readers, and may be contacted at dorothyjclark@hotmail.com.

Hosea’s Bride
Dorothy Clark

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And I will betroth thee unto Me for ever; yea,

I will betroth thee unto Me in righteousness,

and in judgment, and in lovingkindness, and in

mercies. I will even betroth thee unto Me in

faithfulness: and thou shalt know the LORD.

—Hosea 2:19-20

This book is lovingly dedicated to my best friend,

hero and husband, Ralph; my children, Craig and

Tina, Brenda and Jay, and Cory; my grandchildren,

Megan, Shaina, Mason and Hillary. How could I

ever write books about love without you in my life?

You are all wonderful and special, and I love you to

pieces. To my sisters Virginia and JoAnn, thanks for

the prayers and support. Marjorie, thanks for those

things and for being so careful of my time

(Mt.10:41). To my nieces and nephews, thanks

for rallying around, guys! I love you all. To Johnny,

Orv, and Jody Kay, who live forever in my heart.

And most of all to my Lord and Savior,

Jesus Christ. Truly, in Him, all things are possible.

Special thanks to Pastor Ron Jutze and his wife,

Shirley, for their unfailing love, support,

encouragement and prayers on behalf of my writing

ministry. I will never forget Pastor Ron’s reaction

when he read the prologue! You guys are the best!

To God be the glory!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Prologue

Gelina pressed back against the storefront, scanning the unfamiliar street. It looked safe. She stepped out of the shadow, her stiletto heels clicking against the concrete as she ran to the curb and dashed across the connecting road.

From the side street the low, powerful hum of a geared-down motor sounded.

She hadn’t lost them!

Her heart lurched violently in her chest, pumping terror through her veins. She broke into a dead run down the deserted sidewalk toward a patch of darkness under a broken streetlight.

Maybe I should throw my purse into the middle of the road. Maybe he’ll stop looking for me if I give him the money!

Light from the oncoming car pierced the night, spreading in an ever widening swath across the pavement behind her as it approached. She had to hide. But where?

The deeper darkness of a recessed doorway appeared on her left. Gelina darted up the short flight of stairs, then wedged back against the side wall as a long, black car pulled up to the intersection. The black fishnet stockings stretched across her thighs caught on the building’s rough stones.

Where to go? Tony won’t be satisfied until he makes an example of me. If he finds me, he’ll kill me just to show the other girls, she thought frantically.

A sob caught in Gelina’s throat, choking off her air. She leaned her head back against the stones and closed her eyes. Oh, God! Oh, God! If You’re real, help me. Help me!

White light from the car’s headlamps swept across her eyelids. They were turning in her direction. She was trapped! Fear writhed like a living thing in her stomach.

The car started a slow crawl down the street toward her.

No! Oh, God, no! I don’t want to die!

With a spasmodic jerk, Gelina spun around and grabbed the knob on one of the double doors beside her. Her clammy hands slipped on the cold, polished brass. Locked!

The hum of the car motor grew louder. Her heart bucked like a wild thing. She grabbed the other knob and gave it a violent twist. The latch clicked back as the gleam of the headlights threw her shadow against the painted wood. At that moment, she yanked the door open and leaped inside the building. She slammed the door closed and collapsed against it, her chest heaving with silent sobs.

The hum of the powerful motor faded away down the street.

“Good evening.”

Gelina jerked upright and spun about.

“I’m afraid the service has already started. But better late than never.” An elderly man smiled and handed her a leaflet. In the center of the cover was a large cross with the word Crossroads emblazoned on the horizontal bar.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up into Gelina’s throat. She was in a church. Of all places! Tony would never—

“We’re quite crowded because of our guest speaker, but if you’ll just come this way, I’ll have one of the ushers seat you.”

The hysterical laughter died. Gelina stared at the man. Was he blind? Any fool could see she didn’t belong in a church. Her long, brassy-blond hair swung side to side as she shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll just wait here a moment.”

The hum of that powerful motor sounded nearer. A car door slammed. Gelina dropped the leaflet and whirled to face the door. She jumped when the man touched her arm.

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

Mute with terror, she nodded.

The man gave her a little push as footsteps approached the door. “Go through those doors. Hurry!”

She stumbled forward, caught her balance and ran.

“…so there’s no need to be afraid, no matter what your situation or circumstance. Our God is a big God. He’s King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. The great I Am. He watches over His children to care for them, to protect them. But I don’t expect you to take my word for it. God Himself tells us in His word.”

The preacher’s words seemed to fill the room. Gelina took the church bulletin a smiling usher handed her, slid into an empty spot in the back pew on the right and glanced over her shoulder at the double doors. They remained closed. She clasped the bulletin and her gold shoulder bag in her trembling hands, took a long, deep breath to calm herself, and looked around for another exit.

“Look at Psalm ninety one, verse three. ‘For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler.’ Verse five; ‘You will not fear the terror of the night, or the destruction that wastes at noonday.”’

Gelina snapped her gaze to the tall, blond young man standing in the pulpit. His head lifted. He looked out over the congregation.

“And just look at the promises God makes in verses fourteen, fifteen and sixteen.” He began to quote by heart. “‘Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name.”’ His gaze slid over Gelina—came back and held her own gaze captive. “‘When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble.”’

Gelina stiffened. Her long, scarlet nails poked holes through the bulletin and dug into the gold purse. Was he talking to her? No. That was foolishness.

“‘I will rescue them and honor them. With long life I will satisfy them, and show them my salvation.”’

Nonetheless, Gelina sagged with relief when the pastor’s gaze shifted, swept over the people.

“Who are these promises for? They’re for those who love God, who know His name. They are for His children. For those who walk in close, personal relationship with Him.”

The pastor placed both hands on the pulpit and leaned forward. “Are you a child of God? Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?” His gaze swept over the congregation again. “If not—all you have to do is ask. God’s salvation is available to all. He loves us.” His gaze slid back to Gelina. “He loves you.”

The softly spoken words shot like an arrow straight to her heart. Tears welled into her eyes and spilled over. She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t pull her gaze from the young pastor’s face as he stepped out from behind the pulpit and descended the few steps to the center aisle.

“If you don’t know how to ask, come forward and I’ll pray with you. Just come forward—we’ll ask Him together.”

Gelina couldn’t breathe. She reached down and gripped the hard seat of the wooden pew fighting an inner urge so strong she shook with the force of it. She bit down hard on her lower lip to stop the sobs clawing their way into her throat, and looked down at her lap, horribly ashamed of what she was—of how she looked.

She drew a shuddering breath and tugged at the black leather miniskirt she wore trying to cover her slender thighs. She couldn’t go forward. God wouldn’t want her. She was too dirty, too shamed, too—

“He loves you! Just as you are…Jesus loves you.”

The words rang through the room.

Gelina jerked her head up and met the pastor’s steady gaze.

“Just as you are.”

The quiet words were accompanied by a feeling of warmth, of well-being that Gelina had never known. Wave after wave of it washed over her. God loved her. He knew what she was, and He still loved her! Somehow, someway, deep down inside, she knew it was true. She could feel it. She could feel God’s love for her.

Suddenly, everything inside her went still. Gelina drew a long, deep breath and closed her eyes as the despair and terror that had filled her were swept away by a peace she could not understand.

Awed by the sudden certainty of a Heavenly Father that loved her, that cared about her, she gripped the back of the pew in front of her and rose to her feet. The open church bulletin fluttered down, covering the gold shoulder bag that slid off her lap and fell, unheeded, to the floor. She drew another steadying breath, stepped into the aisle and walked forward.

The gold-and-diamond rings on Tony’s hands glittered as he shoved the swinging doors open, stepped into the sanctuary and swept a searching gaze over the pews full of people. There was no leather-garbed blonde in sight. Cursing under his breath, he moved toward the empty spot in the pew on the right to get a better view.

If Gelina had gotten away because of that talkative old fool in the vestibule… His foot brushed against something on the floor as he stepped into the pew. He glanced down—there was a church bulletin covering some woman’s purse.

Stupid woman! Tony drew his lips back in a sneer, sat down and reached for the purse. He froze as the old man that had followed him into the sanctuary stepped to the end of the pew and shook his head.

Tony threw the man an ugly look, then rose to his feet and again scanned the assemblage. There was no sign of Gelina. She wasn’t there—unless she was the one that circle of people up front were praying over.

He snickered at the thought, gave the purse a vicious, satisfying kick, then shoved past the old man and left the sanctuary.

Angela pulled the new, cream-colored turtleneck shirt over her head and glanced around the lovely bedroom. Two nights she had slept here. Two nights she had been safe from the terror that had threatened her every night since her mother and stepfather had forced her into prostitution to pay for their drug habits.

She broke off the thought, snipped the tag from her new, brown wool pants and pulled them on. That life was behind her now—if she could escape the city. Her stomach knotted. She had stayed hidden in this house yesterday, but she didn’t fool herself that Tony had given up the search. He couldn’t afford to let her get away.

Angela shivered, and sat down to lace on her new shoes. If only they would deliver her car, she could be gone before Tony woke up and hit the streets looking for her. She glanced toward the small alarm clock on the nightstand and her gaze skimmed across the Bible resting there. A frown creased her forehead. Should she ask God to help her escape? Would God do that?

Angela bit down on her lower lip, shot a quick look at the closed door, then shut her eyes. “God, if that pastor was right, and this is the sort of thing You do—would You please help me to escape Tony? I need to get out of town so I can start a new life. Thank You.”

Heat climbed into Angela’s cheeks. She must be crazy, asking God for help. She never asked anyone for help. It had been just her against the world for as long as she could remember.

She shrugged off the odd feeling, tucked in the turtleneck, fastened the belt of the slacks and reached for the matching plaid blazer. Her movement, reflected in the full-length mirror hanging on the open closet door, caught her attention. For a long moment she stared at the young, slender woman looking back at her.

Born again.

The phrase the young pastor had used popped into her mind. Angela smiled, then leaned forward and stared hard at her reflection. Her smile was different. There was less brittleness, less of an edge. And her eyes looked softer…warmer.

She stepped closer and lifted her hand to touch the young woman in the mirror. The reflected fingertips met hers and a sense of wonder filled her. It was really her. A new her.

“Hello, Angela.” The brown, heavily fringed eyes staring back at her from the mirror widened in surprise. Even her voice sounded different. It sounded…gentle. How had these things happened? She started at a soft rapping on the door.

“Miss Warren?”

“Just a moment.”

Angela slipped on the blazer, took one last awed look at her reflection and turned toward the door. Her gaze fell on the tube of bright-red lipstick sitting on top of the dresser among the crimson blush and other items of makeup. With one quick swipe of her hands she picked it all up and tossed it into the wastebasket. It landed on top of the gold purse, black-leather miniskirt, net stockings and other garish items of clothing covered with cutoff tresses of long, brassy-blond hair.

Angela brushed her hands together in satisfaction, turned her back on the wastebasket that held all that remained of Gelina, and opened the bedroom door.

“Yes, Mrs. Parker?”

“I just wanted to let you know your car has been delivered. It’s in the—” The woman stopped and stared.

“Surprised, Mrs. Parker?”

“Surprised? I’m astounded.” The elderly woman pursed her lips and made a slow circle around Angela. “My, my! I’ve seen transformations before, but this is…well…it’s astonishing.”

The woman laughed at her own reaction and reached up to touch one of the soft, silky wisps of brown hair framing Angela’s face. “I love your hair. That short style is perfect on you. And the color is wonderful.”

Angela smiled. “The credit is yours, Mrs. Parker. You picked it out.”

The woman laughed again. “That’s true. I did. But I only bought what you asked for.” She swept her gaze over Angela’s slender body and nodded in obvious satisfaction. “The clothes fit well.” She looked down at the suede pant boots. “Are the shoes all right?”

“They fit fine. Everything fits. I can’t thank you enough for going to all this trouble for me.”

Angela reached for the new brown leather purse on the dresser. “If you’ll let me know what I owe you for the room and the shopping…for arranging for your hair stylist to come, and all the rest of your help, I’ll pay—”

“Hush.” Angela glanced down at the hand Nora Parker placed on her arm. “It was no trouble, dear. It was a pleasure. I’m glad Pastor Barnes suggested me to the visiting pastor when he asked for people who would be willing to help you. There’s no charge.”

“But—”

Nora Parker smiled and shook her head.

Angela suddenly felt extremely awkward. What should she do? No one had ever done anything to help her without expecting payment.

“Would it make you feel better to pay, dear?”

Ah! Angela’s face tightened. She was back on familiar territory now. She knew this game. A sudden sense of disappointment filled her. She ignored it and nodded agreement. “Name your price, Mrs. Parker. I won’t quibble.” She reached into her purse for money. Nora Parker stayed her hand. She looked up and met the elderly woman’s gaze.

“If someday you meet a young woman in trouble…you help her in my name. That’s the payment I want, dear.”

Angela was so shocked, she barely felt the gentle squeeze the elderly woman gave her hand before she left the room.

Elaine Madison’s Home for Abused Women and Children. Angela copied the address out of the telephone book onto the stamped envelope, signed Nora Parker’s name to the card, then slipped it and the money orders she’d bought inside and dropped the envelope in the local mail slot on her way out of the post office. The first installment on her debt to Mrs. Parker had been paid. It would never be enough.

She hurried across the parking lot, unlocked her new car, then pulled the map she needed first from her travel bag and backed out of the parking place. When the light at the corner stopped traffic, she exited the parking lot onto Oakwood Boulevard and headed north.

What a beautiful morning! Beautiful, but chilly for early September. Angela pulled up behind a green van stopped for the red light at Trenton Street and leaned forward to adjust the heater. She would have to include a coat when she stopped to buy her new wardrobe. And maybe one of those fleece jackets she’d been seeing everywhere.

A long, black car rolled to a halt beside her.

Angela’s stomach contracted sharply. Tony! What was he doing on the streets before late afternoon? Bile surged into her throat. She knew the answer—he was hunting for her. She reached down and pushed the button that locked all the doors, then gripped the steering wheel with her trembling hands and stared straight ahead.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tony staring at her. He said something to the man driving the car. The driver turned his head to look at her and both men laughed. Angela’s heart gave a painful jolt. She stared at the back of the van ahead of her.

God, please—please! Make it move!

The light turned green. Angela let out her breath and moved ahead with the traffic. If only she could pass! But there was no chance; oncoming traffic blocked her on the left, and Tony’s car pinned her in on the right.

Her head began to throb. Suddenly, Tony’s car leaped ahead. She watched in utter amazement as it exited onto the Baker Street Bridge and headed back toward the main part of the city.

He hadn’t recognized her. Tony hadn’t recognized her! She was free. Angela sagged back against the seat, sobbing and laughing.

The flash of her exit sign sobered her. She took a deep breath, accelerated up the on-ramp and headed west toward her new life.

Chapter One

“Hello, the house!”

Angela smiled at the familiar call. “I’m in the library, Leigh.”

“Where else?” The sound of footsteps approached down the hallway. A shiny curtain of smooth red hair swung into Angela’s view as Leigh Roberts stuck her head around the door casing. “You don’t look ready to leave for the welcome dinner at church. How much longer will you be?”

Angela stopped typing and smiled at her best friend. “Give me ten more minutes.”

“That’s cutting it pretty close. I want to make a good impression on the new pastor, and so should you.” Leigh waggled her eyebrows. “He’s young and single, you know. And I hear he’s a hunk.”

Angela laughed. “I’m supposed to be the information expert. I swear, Leigh, if I had your sources I’d be a millionaire.”

“No doubt.” Leigh grinned, then gave an audible sniff. “What is that divine smell?”

“I’m experimenting with a new cinnamon syrup to pour on the apple pies they asked me to bake for the welcome dinner. Have a taste. I’ll be right along.” Angela waved her friend off to the kitchen and turned back to her computer.

“There he is.” Leigh’s green eyes widened. “Wow! He is a hunk.”

Laughing at her friend’s enthusiastic, under-her-breath comment, Angela turned to follow the direction of Leigh’s appreciative gaze and found herself looking straight into her past. It was so unexpected she could only stare as her past and present walked toward her in the form of their new, tall, blond pastor.

“Angela? What’s wrong?”

Leigh’s sudden grip on her arm broke the numbing paralysis of the shock. Angela shook her head. “Nothing.” She had to get out of there before he saw her! If she could reach the back door—

“Nothing?” Leigh stared at her friend. “You’re as white as that little lie you just told me.” She pulled a chair forward. “Sit down before you pass out. I’ll go get you some water, unless—” Her eyes narrowed as she studied Angela’s face. “Are you going to be ill? Do you need me to help you to the ladies’ room?”

The ladies’ room! She would be safe there until she could think what to do. Angela shot Leigh a look of gratitude and shook her head. “No, thanks. I can make it on my own. You stay here. I’ll—”

“Ladies, I’d like you to meet our new pastor.”

Too late! Angela’s stomach heaved. Lord, don’t let me be sick. She drew a long, deep breath, rose to her feet and turned around as Walter Foster, one of the elders of the church, continued his introduction.

“Pastor Stevens, this is Leigh Roberts and Angela Warren. They are in charge of special activities. If you need someone to come up with interesting ideas for outings, make unusual and beautiful decorations, or research a missionary project these are the women you call on.”

Hosea Stevens smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He reached for Leigh’s extended hand. “Do I address you as Miss or Mrs. Roberts? Or do you prefer Ms.?”

Leigh laughed. “Ms. is too generic a term for my liking, Pastor Stevens. And I’m not a Mrs. for a few months yet. Actually, it’s Dr. Roberts. But that’s too formal. Call me Leigh—everyone does.”

“Then Leigh it is.” The pastor gave her another smile and turned to take Angela’s offered hand.

“And you, Angela Warren?” His gaze skimmed over her face. “Are you married or modern or—?”

“It’s Miss Warren, Pastor Stevens. I’m not married, or modern.” His strong fingers curled more tightly around her hand.

“You’re shaking, Miss Warren. And your hand is like ice. Are you ill?”

There was genuine concern in his voice. Angela’s eyes filled. It had been six years, but she remembered that concern. She shook her head and looked down at their joined hands. Father God, please—make him let go of my hand. Help me to get out of here! She gave a little tug and Pastor Stevens released her hand.

“You are pale, Angela.” Walter Foster stepped closer and laid a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you should take her home, Leigh.”

“No! I—I mean, no…please.” The last thing she wanted was Leigh fussing over her and asking her questions. Angela forced a smile. “There’s no reason for Leigh to miss the meeting. I’m perfectly capable of taking myself home.”

She didn’t dare look at Hosea Stevens. Instead, she grabbed the purse she’d laid on the table and turned toward her friend. “Leigh, can you—?”

“Don’t worry about me, Angela. Barbara Adams can drop me off at your place to pick up my car.” Leigh’s voice took on its professional tone as she studied Angela’s face. “Are you certain you’re able to drive home?”

Angela nodded her head. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll expect a full report on the meeting in the morning.” She opened her purse and searched for her car keys as an excuse not to have to look at the men. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me—” She jumped as Leigh’s hand touched her forehead.

“You don’t have a fever, Angela, but still, I think you must have picked up that summer flu bug that’s going around. Drink lots of liquids, and go straight to bed. And if you need anything, call me. Otherwise, I’ll check on you tomorrow, I won’t wake you when I get the car.”

Angela nodded and turned toward the exit.

“I hope you feel better soon, Miss Warren. We’ll remember you in our prayers.”

Angela paused with her hand on the push bar of the glass door and glanced back over her shoulder. “Thank you, Pastor Stevens.” A shiver ran through her as their gazes touched. Quickly, she pushed the door open, stepped out into the warm summer evening and hurried to her car.

The keys in Angela’s hand jingled as another nervous tremor shook her body. She stared down at them, frowned, then slowly lifted her head and swept a startled gaze around her bedroom. She didn’t remember driving home.

Dropping the keys onto her dresser, she hurried to the dormer windows and yanked the curtains closed. Even here, in the place that had been her home for the last six years, she felt exposed. Was there no place she could be safe from the past?

Angela turned and threw herself onto the bed as the pain in her heart swelled and spread. She had worked so hard to leave her past behind. No one in the town of Harmony knew about her—no one—until now.

Oh, why had Pastor Hosea Stevens come here?

A sob erupted from Angela’s throat into the quiet of the room. She buried her face in her pillow as the tears began to flow.

“Hello?”

“Angela! Finally! If that machine had answered one more time I was going to get in the car and drive over there.”

“Hello, Leigh.”

“Hi. Sorry about that tirade, but this is the third time I’ve called, and I was getting worried. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” Angela rolled over onto her back and covered her swollen, burning eyes with her free arm.

“I’m not surprised. I’ve never seen the flu hit anyone so hard or fast. I thought you were going to faint.” There was a significant pause. “Our new pastor seemed quite concerned about you.”

Oh, no! Angela bolted to a sitting position. She could almost hear Leigh’s eyebrows waggling over the phone, and the last thing she needed was for her friend to start playing matchmaker.

“No comment, eh? All right. All right. Your silence is shouting at me. We’ll discuss Pastor Stevens another time. Is there anything you need? Chicken soup or something?” Leigh’s low laughter came floating over the wire. “Not that I can make any. But I can run to the store and buy you some.”

Angela sank back down onto her pillow and covered her eyes. Her head was spinning from her sudden movement. “Thanks, Leigh, but I’m fine for now.”

“Okay. I’ll hang up so you can rest. But if you’re not better by tomorrow I’m paying you a professional visit after church. Even OBs know how to treat the flu. Oops—I’m being paged. Call if you need me. Bye.”

Church? Tomorrow was Sunday! Angela’s stomach churned. She slammed the receiver down and ran for the bathroom. What was she to do about church? What was she to do about her life?

She reached the bathroom just in time.

The teakettle whistled.

Angela read the Bible verses one more time, then went to make her tea as she pondered them. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

The words were comforting, but were they her answer? Angela carried her tea back to the table and read the verses again. They would certainly apply to—

The sharp ring of the telephone made her jump. She started toward the counter to pick up the receiver, then stopped. What if it was him? She held her breath, waiting for the answering machine to click on.

“Miss Warren? This is Pastor Stevens. I’m calling to see how you’re feeling.”

Hosea Stevens’s deep, rich voice filled the small kitchen.

“I hope the fact that your machine has answered means you are up and about. But until I know for certain I will keep you in my prayers.”

No! She didn’t want him thinking about her.

“By the way, I understand I have you to thank for the delicious apple pie. That cinnamon syrup was wonderful! I’d move halfway across the country for a treat like that anytime.” There was a low, soft chuckle. “Don’t tell my mother, though, she prides herself on her baking.” The machine clicked off.

Angela took a deep breath and glanced down at her Bible on the table. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart….”

The words seemed to leap off the page at her. For a long moment she stood staring down at them; then, slowly, she sank down onto the chair. She did trust the Lord—but Pastor Hosea Stevens was another matter. One word from him about her past, and her life in Harmony would be ruined. Leigh and the other friends she had made would certainly shun her. She hadn’t the strength or courage to face that. She would have to move and start again.

Tears filled Angela’s eyes. Things had been going so well. Was she to be punished all her life for her past sin? She crossed her arms over the Bible and hid her face against them, consumed by shame.

“Lord, I know I deserve whatever happens. But I’m so sorry for the things I’ve done. And I know I’ve asked You many times before, but I ask You again to forgive me. Oh, Lord, please forgive me. And help me, Lord. Help me to trust You for the answer to this situation. I ask it in Your precious, holy name. Amen.”

Angela drew a deep breath and rose to her feet. There was a scripture in the book of James that said something about faith without works being dead—she didn’t want to be guilty of that. She was going to have to do something tangible to prove she trusted the Lord.

With a sigh that came all the way from her toes, Angela closed her Bible, picked up her cup of tea, and, against all her own instinct and desire, headed for the bedroom to select the outfit she would wear to church tomorrow.

“Wow! He looks like a dream, and preaches like a house afire.” Leigh clapped her hand over her heart and rolled her eyes toward heaven. “I think I’m in love!”

Nervous as she was, Angela couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s outrageous enthusiasm. “Better not let your fiancé hear you say that.” She glanced over her shoulder at them both as she filed out of the row.

Leigh laughed and followed her. “Phil understands. Don’t you, Phil?” She grinned at the exaggerated growl of agreement from her intended, put her hand on Angela’s shoulder and tugged. “Hey, what’s the big rush? I’m knocking into people here.” She smiled down at the older woman beside her. “Sorry, Mrs. Boyer.”

Angela slowed her steps, then had to stop entirely for a toddler that escaped his mother’s grasp and darted in front of her. People closed in around her. She’d never seen the church so crowded. Had the entire membership turned out to hear the new pastor preach his first sermon?

She raised up on tiptoe to scan the crowd for a less congested pathway to the door and her heart sank. There was no reason to hurry now—Hosea Stevens was already at the front doors shaking hands. How had he made it through the press of people so quickly?

Angela frowned, and darted a glance toward the side exits. Maybe she could avoid him that way. An elbow jabbed into her ribs. She sighed. It was no use—she would never be able to reach those doors through the crush of people. She took a firmer grip on her Bible and inched her way forward with the crowd.

“Miss Warren!” Hosea Stevens smiled and reached for her hand. “I’m so pleased you are feeling well enough to attend this morning’s service. Are you fully recovered?”

“Not fully, Pastor Stevens, but with the Lord’s help I will be.”

“Amen to that. The Lord never fails. And you, Leigh—” Hosea released her hand and turned toward her friend. “I’m happy to see you….”

Their voices faded away as Angela stepped through the open door and almost danced her way down the stairs to the sidewalk. He didn’t recognize her! She had been worrying over nothing.

“Angela. Wait a minute!” Leigh dodged around an elderly couple on the sidewalk and hurried toward her. “Phil and I are going to Romans for lunch with Patty and Doug and we want you to come.”

Angela looked over at the people waiting for Leigh by Phil’s car. “I don’t think so, Leigh. I’d be a fifth wheel and—”

“Angela Warren, you know none of us feel like that! Now, come on, it’ll be fun.” Leigh linked her arm through Angela’s and started back toward the others. “But…if you’re serious about that fifth wheel thing, I could invite Phil’s brother Bob.”

Angela dug in her heels and Leigh almost tripped. She heaved a sigh. “Oh, all right—no men for you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. But I still don’t see what you have against them.” Leigh brushed a long lock of red hair back out of her eyes and started walking again. “Every single man in this church between the ages of—no, just make that every single man in this church—is crazy about you, Angela. And you won’t give any of them a chance. I don’t get it.” She gave her a sidelong look. “Some of them are really nice.”

“I know they are, Leigh.” Angela met Leigh’s gaze. “We’ve been over this before. I just don’t want any romantic involvement with anyone. I like my life the way it is. Okay?”

“Okay.” Leigh lifted her mouth in a roguish grin. “But you may not have any say in the matter.”

Angela stopped walking and stared up at her. “What does that mean? What are you talking about?”

Leigh’s grin grew wider. “I’ve been praying for you. That’s what I’m talking about. Now come on.” She linked her arm through Angela’s and tugged. “Phil made reservations for one o’clock and I don’t want to lose our table—I’m starving!”

Chapter Two

“Ball one!”

“Way to go, Angela! That’s the way to read ’em.”

Angela swept off her ball cap, bowed to Leigh who was taking a long lead off first base, then replaced her cap and tugged it low to hide her face. Her gaze lifted to the man on the pitcher’s mound. So much for hiding in the crowd at the church picnic. She should never have come. Four weeks since his arrival, and she was still a nervous wreck. She tugged the cap lower and lifted the bat into position.

Hosea Stevens wound up and pitched the ball.

“Strrrike one!”

Leigh scurried back to first as Phil caught the pitch and threw it to Seth Pickard.

“You’ve got to be faster than that, Phil, this woman of yours runs like a deer!” Leigh waggled her eyebrows at him. Seth laughed, and threw the ball to Hosea.

Leigh inched off base again.

Hosea wound up and pitched it right down the middle.

Crack!

Leigh let out a whoop, and took off running as Angela dropped the bat and dashed for first base.

The ball whizzed out to center field. Bill Stoner scooped it up and threw to Lou Harris at third base. Leigh skidded to a halt, spun around, dashed back to second base, grinned and gave Angela, who had returned to first, a thumbs-up. “Good hit!”

“Thanks.” Angela drew a deep breath and glanced toward home plate. “Come on, Debby, hit us in!” Please hit us in, she begged silently. I want out of here! Her gaze shifted to Hosea Stevens as he began his windup. She pulled her thoughts back to the business at hand and inched her way off base.

Hosea pitched another perfect strike.

Crack!

Debby popped it up, and Angela took off for second base.

Hosea faded back, leaped into the air, caught the ball for out number one, threw it to Lou Harris at third, who tagged a laughing, dodging Leigh for out number two, and threw it to Bart Williams at second.

Angela skidded to a halt, let out a squeal, and spun around to head back to first. She froze in place. Hosea Stevens was standing not ten feet away between her and first base. He caught the ball Bart lobbed to him, grinned, and started a slow advance toward her. She backed up. Hosea’s grin widened. He locked his gaze on hers and took another step toward her. Her stomach jittered.

Not him, Lord. Please, not him!

Angela shoved her hands out toward Hosea, palms foremost, took another step backward, then spun about and almost crashed into Bart who had sneaked up be hind her.

Bart laughed, caught the ball Hosea tossed him and tapped Angela lightly on her shoulder. “Whooeee…triple play! That’s the game, folks! Let’s go eat!”

“Great game, Slider.” Bart slapped Hosea on the shoulder and trotted off to join the rest of the players that were headed toward the shaded tables under the pavilions along the river.

“Slider?” Leigh stopped beside Angela and gaped at Hosea. “You’re Slider Stevens?”

“I used to be.”

“Well, no wonder we lost!”

Hosea laughed.

Phil draped his arm around Leigh’s shoulders and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “That’s my little competitor talking, Pastor.” He laughed down at Leigh. “He went easy on you, sweetheart. Do you think any of you would have gotten a hit if he hadn’t?”

“Judas! You should have told me.” Leigh aimed a playful punch at Phil’s stomach. He caught her hand and kissed it.

Angela smiled at their antics and glanced at Hosea. “I guess I missed something. I don’t understand the significance of Slider Stevens.”

His gaze met hers. “That’s because it has no significance, now. It’s just a name out of my past. I picked it up when I played college ball.”

“Oh.” Angela’s composure unraveled. Had he remembered her other name?

Leigh gave a disdainful snort and ducked out from under Phil’s arm. “‘Played college ball’—hah! That’s an understatement. He was the best, Angela. Don’t you remember all that publicity when he was being wooed by the major league teams?”

Angela shook her head and turned away, too distracted by her thoughts to take part in the conversation.

“Well, I sure do.” Phil looked at Hosea. “You were offered a huge contract, but you never signed. I always wondered why someone with your talent gave up such a fantastic chance.”

“Well, wonder no more. There’s a very simple answer.” Hosea scooped up a ball someone had dropped and stepped over to toss it into a basket full of equipment. “God had a different plan for my life—I went to Bible college.”

“And gave up all those millions? Not to mention the fame, and the adulation of baseball fans everywhere.”

Phil’s incredulous tone penetrated Angela’s preoccupation. She glanced over at Hosea Stevens. Had he done that?

Hosea pulled off his cap and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I gained far more than I gave up, Phil. It was the best decision I’ve ever made. I gained riches beyond value.” He tugged his cap back on. “Now…I think Bart had the right idea. I know I’ve worked up a healthy appetite. Anyone care to join me at the picnic table?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Phil laughed and draped his arm around Leigh again. “Food always sounds good to you, my sweet.”

“True.” She grinned up at him. “But, I happen to know Angela brought her famous potato salad, and her even more famous strawberry shortcake.”

Phil rolled his eyes and licked his lips. “Say no more—let’s go!” He slid his hand down to catch hold of Leigh’s and took off at a dead run toward the tables.

Hosea laughed. “I guess they’re hungry.”

They were alone! Angela forced a smile. “Yes. Hungry and energetic.” She started walking toward the tables. There was safety in numbers, and if she could just reach the crowd she could get away from him.

“Famous potato salad, and even more famous strawberry shortcake, huh? I’ve got to have some of that.”

Angela’s nerves tingled as Hosea fell into step beside her. She wiped her moist palms against her khaki shorts and stared down at the grass. “Then you’d better know, Pastor Stevens, that ‘famous’ is an exaggeration.”

“I hope not, Miss Warren. But, to be honest, it probably wouldn’t matter at this point. I’m hungry as a bear coming out of hibernation.”

Angela glanced up at him from beneath the brim of her baseball cap and her stomach went all jittery again. She jerked her gaze away from his face and took a deep breath. “Excuse me, Pastor Stevens, I have to get the whipped cream from my car.”

Veering off to the right, she headed for the parking lot to compose herself. She could feel his gaze following her all the way.

Millions of dollars. Had he really given up millions of dollars?

Angela leaned against a tree, sipped her iced tea and watched Hosea Stevens laugh, talk and hand out roasted corn to all comers. He couldn’t be more alien to her if he had suddenly grown fur and a tail. Her stepfather and Tony would have killed for that much money. It was inconceivable to her that this man had willingly given it up to obey the Lord.

Angela frowned and studied Hosea Stevens’s face. What had he answered Phil?…I gained riches beyond value. Did he truly mean that?

“What are you looking so serious, about? Don’t you know this is a picnic?”

Angela jumped and looked up at Alan Curtis, another church member. He smiled down at her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you looked so solemn—and at least a thousand miles away.”

“No, I’m right here.” Angela gave him a polite smile and pushed away from the tree. “And now, I’m going over there, and try a piece of that coconut cake Emily brought. It looks wonderful.” She headed toward the dessert table.

“I don’t know about the cake—but I can highly recommend the strawberry shortcake.” Alan turned to walk beside her. “What do you do to those biscuits?”

“Ah, that’s a secret.”

“Well it’s a secret worth money.” He smiled again. “You could probably sell the recipe to one of those famous chefs for big bucks.”

“Why, thank you, sir.”

Big bucks. Millions of dollars. Angela lifted her gaze beyond Alan to the bonfire where the corn was roasting—to where Hosea was pulling back the shucks and handing it out to the laughing, chatting members of his congregation. No man willingly gave up millions of dollars. There had to be a reason.

She turned back to the table and gave Alan an absent smile as he handed her a piece of the coconut cake. She would find that reason when she got home. As she’d reminded Leigh, information was her specialty. For now, she’d stay hidden in the crowd at the table. She picked up a napkin and plastic fork and took a seat.

“Come on, Angela! They’re lining up for the water balloon toss, and we need another woman.”

Angela sighed and gave up as Leigh grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet. There was just no way she could stay lost in the crowd with Leigh around.

“There’s Phil.” Leigh waved her free hand through the air to catch his attention as they trotted forward. “Here we are!”

Angela’s heart sank as she spotted Hosea Stevens lined up beside Phil on the other side of the open field. Leigh. This had her matchmaking fingerprints all over it. She stopped short. “Leigh, I don’t—” The shrill blow of a whistle cut off her protest. Leigh tugged her into place on the line.

“Well…now that we’re all here.” Walter Foster looked pointedly at Leigh and laughed when she grinned and curtsied to him. “Let’s begin.” He glanced around. “You all know the rules. You throw the balloon to your partner. When everyone has thrown their balloon, I’ll blow my whistle and you all take a step backward before your partner throws it back to you. You’re out of the contest as soon as your balloon breaks. Okay?”

There was a chorus of agreement.

“All right. Men…hold up your balloons! Ladies…check the color of your partner’s balloon. We’ve separated them so if somebody throws a wild one at you you’ll know in time to dodge it!” He glanced around to make sure everyone was ready while people laughed and shouted threats at one another. “Okay, last couple on the field wins all the extra balloons!”

He waved the half-empty bag over his head and hurried out of the cleared area to the accompaniment of the good-natured insults called out at the offered prize. When he reached the safety of the sidelines he turned and lifted his hand. Everyone quieted and looked at their partner.

“Ready…set…Go!”

Two dozen multicolored balloons wobbled through the air.

Angela caught the blue one Hosea threw to her, instinctively drawing her hands down and backward to ease the contact.

There was a sharp squeal to Leigh’s left. Another farther down the line.

Cold water spattered Angela’s sun-warmed legs as a balloon burst on the ground beside her. She jumped.

“Sorry, Angela, you got more of that than I did.” Sandra Collins laughed and trotted off the field with the other women whose balloons had broken.

The whistle blew. The remaining players took a step back.

Angela judged the new distance and threw the balloon to Hosea. Water splashed everywhere as wildly thrown balloons broke and spewed their contents on whoever happened to be in the way.

Hosea caught hers, then burst into laughter as another smacked against his shoulder and sprayed him with water. He held the dripping remnant of the wayward balloon out to Lou Harris. “I believe this belongs to you, sir?”

Lou accepted it with a bow.

The crowd laughed.

The whistle blew.

Angela stepped back. Hosea looked at her over the widening space. Thank goodness they were moving farther apart. She felt naked without the baseball cap. Lord, don’t let him remember. Please—

Whap!

Angela gasped as the blue balloon broke against her abdomen and cold water soaked through her cotton shirt and khaki shorts. Idiot! You closed your eyes. She shook her head at her foolishness, and tugged her wet shirt out away from her body. “Woo-hoo! Only three more to go and we win, Phil!” Leigh looked over at her friend and grinned. “Sorry, Angela.”

Angela laughed. “Yeah, I can tell.” She dropped back out of harm’s way and trotted off the field as the whistle sounded again.

Hosea Stevens met her at the edge of the crowd.

She sucked in a breath and pasted a smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Pastor. I cost you a half bag of balloons.”

He grinned down at her. “I think I can manage to live through the disappointment.” His gaze sought hers. “I’m sorry about the soaking.”

Angela turned away to look back at the field. “My fault entirely.” There was a sudden burst of applause. “Besides, it seems to have worked out well for Leigh and Phil.” She gave him a quick glance. “Excuse me, I have to go congratulate them.”

Relieved at the excuse to leave his company, she trotted off to join her friends.

Angela stared at the computer screen. She’d been so eager to check the information on Hosea “Slider” Stevens, she hadn’t even changed out of her picnic clothes, and she’d found nothing questionable. She checked her files, her sources of information again. There was nothing. No illness, injury or family problems. No breath of scandal or unexplained absences for any block of time. All she could find confirmed Hosea’s statement. He had simply walked away from the millions of dollars offered him to play professional ball. And that included a signing bonus in a previously unheard of amount for a rookie.

She shook her head and scanned the copy of the newspaper reports again. There was nothing else to check. Nowhere else to go for information. What he had said was true. But, how could it be? She must have missed something. Men weren’t like that.

Angela closed her eyes, rubbed her temples and rotated her neck. Maybe she was just tired. It had been a long day. She’d check things over again tomorrow. She turned off the computer, climbed the stairs and prepared for bed. The softness of the mattress felt lovely after the physical activity of the day. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

“Thank you, Father, for the blessings of this day. Thank you for the lovely weather and the picnic….”

An image of Hosea Stevens’s face implanted itself on Angela’s mind stopping her words. She popped her eyes open, flopped onto her back and frowned. The man was a torment to her. What was she to do?

“What do You want from me, Lord? What are You after? Why did You bring him here?”

There was no answer to her whispered words. Angela sighed, and turned on the light. The pleasant tiredness of the day was gone. There was only a restless confusion swirling through her brain.

She grabbed her pillows, propped them against the head of the bed and reached for the book she’d left on her nightstand. Reading about the hair-raising adventures of the brooding, dark-haired, brown-eyed espionage agent would not only get her thoughts off her troubles, it would drive the image of the blond, blue-eyed, square-jawed Hosea Stevens out of her mind.

Hosea flipped his baseball cap onto the shelf, laid his glove beside it and closed the closet door. It had been a fun day. And the church picnic had given him a valuable glimpse of the members of his new congregation in a relaxed setting. He was already learning their individual personalities and quirks. Like Leigh Roberts’s love of food. He grinned, stripped off his clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket. The woman ate like a linebacker! How did she stay so thin? Angela Warren on the other hand—she’d merely picked at her food.

Hosea shook his head. He’d tried six years ago to find out what happened to the young woman—if anyone had counseled her after her salvation experience. But when he’d called Pastor Barnes to find out, all the man could tell him was that Angela Warren had left the city. Now, here she was in his church. And judging from what he’d been told and the records he’d seen, she was a valuable, active member. Still, she seemed…uneasy? No. It was something more than that. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Did whatever it was have its roots in her past? “Lord, You know what’s wrong. Please give me wisdom to help Angela. Amen.”

He stood waiting for a moment, but no answer came. “All right, Lord. In Your time.” He grabbed a pair of blue-checked boxer shorts from his dresser drawer and trotted to the shower.

Chapter Three

“Well, I think that covers everything.” Hosea flipped the cover of his note pad closed and smiled at the group of people seated around the long table in the conference room adjacent to his office. “Thanks to your prayers and talents, the missionary conference should flow smoothly from beginning to end. And that leaves only one thing I want to say.”

He rose to his feet, placed his hands on the table and leaned forward as he glanced from person to person. The fear that had tortured her these last few weeks gripped Angela anew when his gaze met hers. She looked away. Had he remembered now? Was he going to tell them about her?

“Sometimes words are inadequate—even for a pastor.”

Everyone laughed, but Angela’s stomach tightened.

“This is one of those times, because ‘thank you’ does not begin to express my gratitude for your warm welcome, your openhearted acceptance of me as your pastor, and your understanding and thoughtfulness. It has been your readiness to help me settle in and become acclimated to a new home and church that has made these last few weeks such a smooth and painless transition period. I can’t thank you enough. But I can pray for you.”

Out of the corner of her eye Angela saw him straighten and start around the table. He briefly rested his hands on the shoulders of each person as he prayed.

“Father God in heaven, I pray Your richest blessings upon these, Your children. In Your great love and unending mercy, may You meet their every need, withholding no good gift, but extending healing, deliverance, peace, prosperity, and the greatest gift of all, which is the joy of Your presence in their lives. All this I ask in the matchless name of Your Son, Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen.”

The meeting was over. She could escape. Under cover of the general stirring and amiable chatter of the others, Angela gathered her things and headed for the door.

“Miss Warren, I’d like a word with you please. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll walk you to your car.”

The softly spoken request froze Angela in her tracks. This was it. Her traitorous feet wouldn’t move—wouldn’t take her out the door to safety. She forced her lips into a smile as the others bid her goodnight and filed out the door.

The sound of a hymn the music team was practicing for Sunday morning poured through the open door. It did nothing to ease Angela’s taut nerves. She felt the blood draining from her face as Hosea Stevens walked over to her, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Six years of her life—gone. She would have to move. Start over somewhere new.

Angela swallowed back a sudden surge of nausea and stared down at the white knuckles on her hands as he stopped in front of her. She couldn’t make herself look up at him. She didn’t want to read the knowledge of her past in his eyes.

“Have I done something to offend you, Miss Warren?”

“What?” Angela jerked her head up. “I mean—no.” Had he not remembered? This wasn’t about her past after all. Relief made her weak. She put her hand out and gripped the chair beside the open door for support. “Why do you ask?” He glanced down at her hand and she quickly let go of the chair and stepped out into the hallway. He moved to stand beside her.

“I ask because I’ve noticed you avoid me whenever possible. And when you are forced into my company—such as at the meeting tonight—you seldom look directly at me, or speak to me.” His gaze fastened on hers. “And you always hurry off at the first possible moment.”

Angela’s heart sank—instead of avoiding Hosea Stevens’s attention she had drawn it. She looked down at the Bible in her hand and groped frantically for something to say. She couldn’t deny the truth.

“If I have said or done anything…”

Angela drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t let him believe he had committed some offense against her. The guilt was hers. “Please don’t think that, Pastor Stevens. It’s only that I’ve been…preoccupied lately.” That certainly was true.

“I see.”

There was concern in his voice. Angela lifted her head and, for the first time, met Hosea Stevens’s gaze fully. The oddest sensation struck her—a sort of tingling warmth that spread through her entire body. Her eyes widened with shock. She lowered her head so he wouldn’t notice, and started down the hall. He fell into step beside her.

“I have to say I’m relieved, Miss Warren. I thought I’d made a horrible mistake.”

She shook her head. “Not at all, Pastor. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” She made herself look back up at him. “Please forgive me.”

“Consider it done.” He lifted his hands, scrubbed them through his hair, then jammed them into his pants pockets. “Well, I’m glad that’s over with.”

Angela burst into laughter. She couldn’t help it. He looked like a little boy that had been caught out and by some stroke of luck escaped punishment.

Hosea chuckled. “I hope you won’t tell anyone what a chickenhearted fellow I am.”

Angela hugged her Bible and purse to her chest and grinned at him. “Never fear, Pastor. Wild horses could not drag your secret from me.”

Secret! Her steps faltered. She shouldn’t have said secret. What if the word triggered his memory? She hurried toward the exit door. “Was there anything more?”

“No.” Hosea reached for the push bar. “Not unless I can help you with whatever it is that has been causing your…preoccupation.” His voice softened on the word. “I’ve had good training, and a lot of experience at counseling. It’s part of my job, you know.”

Angela’s stomach knotted. She looked down and rearranged the load in her arms. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you anyway, Pastor. Good night.” She glanced up and their gazes met. That odd sensation hit her again—along with a sudden awareness of Hosea Stevens’s exceptional, dark-blond good looks. Quickly, she stepped through the door he held open.

“Good night, Miss Warren.”

There was a soft swish of air as the door closed behind her.

One o’clock! Angela laid her book on the nightstand and turned out the lamp. It did little to help her wakefulness. She threw another disgusted glance at her alarm clock, frowned at the lateness of the hour and turned onto her side. Plumping her feather pillow with her fist, she laid her head down and closed her eyes. An image of Hosea Stevens smiling down at her slid into her mind. She snapped her eyes open, flopped over onto her other side and stared at the moonlight streaming in the window.

What was wrong with her? Why should she be so agitated by a simple smile? Angela threw off the sheet and clicked the lamp back on. She was being ridiculous. Her sleeplessness had nothing to do with Hosea Stevens—she was probably just hungry.

She jammed her feet into her slippers and headed for the kitchen, but nothing in the cupboards looked appealing. It was indecent of a pastor to be so handsome and charming! But why it should bother her one way or another was beyond her. She wanted no part of any man. She had wanted nothing to do with men ever since her mother and stepfather had—

Angela snatched her mind back from the brink of that dark abyss and went to the sink for some water. She had thought she was free of the past. Now, every time she saw Hosea Stevens it all came rushing back. And if—when—he remembered…

Angela shuddered, set the glass of water on the counter and walked over to the window. Moonlight bathed her small backyard with silver radiance but she was too upset to appreciate the loveliness of the scene. She had never expected to feel an attraction for a man, but tonight, when Hosea Stevens had looked at her…when their gazes had met…

Oh, stop! Angela turned her back on the moonlight outside the window and went over to drink the water. Why was she indulging in such romantic nonsense? That odd feeling was only a momentary aberration. She was terrified to be around the man, for goodness’ sakes. At any moment he might recall that night when she had stumbled into the Crossroads Church to get away from Tony. But still—

Still nothing! Her safety depended on her staying as distant from the man as possible. She slammed the door of her mind closed on all thoughts of Hosea Stevens and headed for the library. There was one sure way to exorcise such foolishness from her mind—work. Lots and lots of work.

The image wouldn’t go away. He simply could not get it out of his mind. Hosea rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and stared down at the list of scripture references he’d prepared for Sunday’s service—all he saw was Angela Warren’s face. The problem was, he wasn’t sure why.

Was it because, as her pastor, he was concerned over what she had called her preoccupation? Or was it something more basic? Tonight, when their gazes had met he’d felt as if he’d been slammed by a pile driver!

Hosea leaned back in his chair, rested his elbows on the padded arms, and slowly rubbed his chin against the tented fingers of his joined hands. He’d never felt such a strong, instantaneous attraction to a woman. Maybe this was the beginning of love. Maybe this was the answer to his prayers for a woman to cherish and share his life with. He’d been praying for a couple of years now. Was Angela Warren God’s answer to those prayers? Could she—an ex-prostitute—be God’s choice for him?

Hosea looked down at the Bible on his desk and pursed his lips in contemplation. There was certainly precedent. God had told the prophet Hosea to marry a promiscuous woman as an example of God’s love and mercy toward wayward Israel.

“Whoa!” Hosea snapped forward in his chair. “You’re letting you’re imagination run away with you, buddy! It’s far too early to be thinking of marriage. And that precedent doesn’t apply. Angela is not a promiscuous woman. Her sin has been forgiven by the Lord, remember? It’s as if it never happened.”

Hosea closed his eyes. It made no difference. Whether his eyes were open or shut, Angela Warren’s face was there in his mind—her lovely, smiling face. He blew his breath out in a long gust and opened his eyes. If this was not of God, he had a problem. And if it was of God, he still had a problem. He curved his lips into a wry smile. At least he knew where to find the answer. He closed his Bible and rested his hands on top of it.

“Father God, You know my heart. You know my hunger and desire for a woman to love and share my life with. And You know, also, that I would rather be lonely all of my days than make the wrong choice. I choose not to trust in my own feelings, or rely on my own understanding. Therefore, Father, once again, I come to Your throne of grace and say, choose Thou for me. Have Your way, Father. Make Your will known to me, in this, as in all things, that I might obey. And, Father, as her pastor, I ask for Your wisdom and guidance in helping Angela Warren. Her distress is obvious. And if it is rooted in her past as I suspect—if that’s the real reason she’s been avoiding me—please help her to know she can trust me. I ask it in the precious name of Your Son, Jesus, my Lord and Savior.”

There. The first, most important, step in the resolution of his dilemma had been taken—he had placed it in the Lord’s hands. Now, all he had to do was stay yielded to God’s will. Not always an easy thing to do. But, God’s grace was sufficient.

Hosea folded the list of scriptures, tucked it into his Bible, and glanced at his watch. One o’clock—so back home it would be eleven. Good! His parents never went to bed before watching the evening news. He grabbed the phone’s handset, punched a memory button and leaned back.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hosea!” He could hear the happy smile in her voice. “You don’t usually call this late.” The smile faded away. “Is there something wrong, honey?”

“No. I just wanted to talk.” He took a deep breath. “Mom? Do you remember that young prostitute I told you about when I first started preaching?”

“The one at the Crossroads church? The one that was born again?”

“That’s the one. She’s here. She’s an active member of my new church.”

“You’re kidding! That’s wonderful, Hosea! I’m so pleased she’s still walking with the Lord.” Her laughter danced out of the receiver into his ear. “But how astonishing that the two of you ended up in the same church halfway across the country! It’s almost as if—”

Hosea smiled. She’d got it. There was nothing slow about his mom when it came to the things of the Lord or her children.

“So that’s why you called.”

“Yes. I’m thinking it’s pretty incredible to be a coincidence. And I’ve never felt this way about anyone. She’s wonderful. But there is a problem. I think she’s still troubled over her past. I need you and Dad to pray about this with me, Mom. I don’t want to make a mistake. I need ‘ears to hear.”’

Chapter Four

What a gorgeous September day! Angela opened the sunroof, lowered the windows, and, on a sudden, strong impulse, turned onto Hillman Boulevard. It would take her a few blocks out of her way, but the drive along the river with the tree-covered hills beyond would be worth it. She had earned a little relaxation.

She glanced over at her purse and smiled. Combined with what she had already saved, the sizable pay she had received from the Jones-Thomas Manufacturing Firm for her research report would enable her to take that European vacation she’d been promising herself. And the large bonus check they had given her for finishing before the deadline would take care of new clothes.

Angela’s smile widened. She could get that lovely, burgundy silk pantsuit she had been admiring, and that delicious sage-green dress with the flowing skirt as well. Pleased at the prospect, she braked at the red light, flicked on her directional signal and followed a blue car, overflowing with children, onto Riverside Parkway. The trunk lid of the car was strapped down over piled-up coolers, lawn chairs and a small rubber raft.

Looks like someone’s going on a last picnic before school starts. Angela smiled. What a lovely idea. She glanced toward the river. She hadn’t anyone to picnic with, but a walk along the path would be nice. And she had time… Why not? She laughed, pulled into a parking spot and climbed from the car.

A bird in the branches above her chirped loudly, swooped down out of the tree and flew straight at her head. She let out a startled squeal and ducked, then laughed and turned to watch the bird fly away toward the river. It flew directly over a young woman sitting on a park bench a short distance away. The teenager looked dejected—and familiar. One of the teen group at church?

Angela pulled off her sunglasses for a better view. It was Cathy Anders. She started over the grass toward the girl. “Cathy?”

The teenager glanced over her shoulder. Her hands lifted and wiped across her cheeks.

“Cathy, what’s wrong?” Angela skimmed an anxious gaze over the girl as she drew near. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no.”

Tears shimmered in the girl’s eyes. Angela sat down on the bench beside her and reached for her hand. “Well, there’s something wrong, Cathy. Why don’t you tell me what it is? Maybe I can help.”

The girl shook her head and looked down at her lap. “No one can help.”

All sorts of dire circumstances flashed through Angela’s mind. She took a deep breath and offered a silent prayer for guidance. “I’d like to try, Cathy—if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, Miss Warren!” The teenager broke into sobs and threw herself into Angela’s arms. “My dad found the money I’d saved for college and he took it. My bus ticket, too. He cashed it in and went to Charlie’s. Now I can’t get there for registration and they’re going to give my scholarship to someone else.”

“Charlie’s? You mean the tavern where they have off-track betting?” The girl’s hair brushed against Angela’s cheek as she nodded. “Oh, Cathy, I’m so sorry.” She tightened her arms around the weeping girl. “Surely, there’s something—” Cathy’s forehead rolled back and forth against her shoulder.

“No. I called. They need my share of the money by four o’clock today or I lose the scholarship.” Cathy took a long, shuddering breath and straightened. “It’s no use talking about it, Miss Warren. I don’t have the money now. And I can’t get there before registration. I can’t get there at all without my ticket.” She swiped at her streaming eyes with a balled-up tissue in her hand. “Even if I had the money, if I don’t register they will close me out of my classes.”

Angela took a deep breath to calm a sudden surge of anger. “Let me understand, Cathy. You say your father found your money. Were you hiding it from him?”

Shame washed over the teenager’s face. She nodded and looked away. “I had a savings account where I banked whatever I could save from my pay after I bought food and stuff. But I had to withdraw the money yesterday so I could buy my ticket and be ready to leave early this morning. I hid it in the bag of books I’m…was…taking with me, and he found it.”

Fresh tears flowed down Cathy’s cheeks. “I know that must sound strange and awful to you, Miss Warren, but—” She glanced at Angela, then looked back down at the wadded tissue in her hands. “But I have to do those things. My dad’s a gambler and…and an alcoholic.”

“I see.” The anger in Angela turned to fury at the pain she saw in the girl’s eyes. The anguish of living with an addicted parent wasn’t strange to her at all. She knew, far too well, the pain and humiliation Cathy was suffering.

“It’s not like you think, Miss Warren.” Cathy’s back straightened, her chin lifted. “My dad would never have taken my money if it wasn’t for the alcohol. That’s why I wanted to go to college. I wanted to do medical research.” Tears spilled from her eyes again. “Maybe I could have found a way to help people like my dad.”

Angela’s eyes filled. Her heart ached for Cathy. The denial, and the vehement protection of the parent were all too familiar to her, too. The same insidious emotions had ensnared her until her dreams were dead and her life destroyed. Well, it was too late for her, but it would not happen to Cathy! Not if she could help it. Who needed a vacation in Europe anyway?

Unable to restrain herself, Angela gave Cathy a fierce hug, then leaped to her feet. “Come on, Cathy!” She grabbed the astonished teenager by the hand and tugged her off the bench, pulling her along as she ran toward her car.

“What are you doing, Miss Warren? Where are we going?” Cathy’s head barely missed the edge of the car roof as Angela all but shoved her into the passenger seat.

“To get you registered for college!” Angela slammed the door behind Cathy, ran around to the driver’s side, hopped in, then made a quick U-turn.

Cathy grabbed for the dash and held on. Her tears dried up as they bore down on a dark-green sedan. “You don’t understand, Miss Warren. I don’t have the money, and—”

“Yes you do, Cathy. I’m going to give it to you.”

“What?” The girl’s mouth gaped open. She stared in wide-eyed astonishment at Angela. “Why?”

For hundreds of horrible, painful reasons. Angela’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she fought back the dark memories. “Let’s just say I’m paying a debt to a lady who once helped me.

“Cathy, it will save time if you’ll let me take you home to get your things.” Angela frowned as the teenager shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Miss Warren. I know you’re trying to help me. And I’m not just being stubborn.” Tears swarmed into Cathy’s red, swollen eyes. “I know time is important. And I want to go to college more than anything! But I just can’t let you go to my house. My dad— Sometimes my dad gets…rough. And Pastor Stevens knows—” Her voice broke on a sob.

Angela put her arm around the girl’s tense shoulders. “Never mind, Cathy. You don’t have to explain. I understand.” She ignored a sudden twinge of nerves and forced a smile. “Why don’t you go splash some cold water on your eyes while I call the church? It will make them feel better.” She pointed to the door that led to the entrance hall. “Go through there and make a right—it’s the door on the right side.”

When Cathy had gone, Angela drew a deep breath, turned to the phone and tapped the memory button for the church. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to pray against her own wishes while the phone on the other end of the line rang. “Please let him be there for Cathy’s sake, Lord. Please let him—”

“Hello. Christian Crossroads—”

“Barbara, this is Angela. Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to Pastor Stevens right away. Is he there?”

“Yes. Hold on, Angela.”

“Thanks.” Angela glanced up at the clock. Only six hours until Cathy had to be at Middleton. Subtract four hours of steady driving to get there, and it didn’t leave—”

“Hello, Miss Warren. What can I do for you?”

Angela closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the counter as the deep, full voice came over the line. “Hello, Pastor Stevens. I have a small emergency involving a young lady from the church—Cathy Anders. And I need some help. I’m sorry to bother you, but you’re the only one she will let me call. Would it be possible for you to come—?”

“Where are you?”

“At my house.”

“The address?”

“Twenty-seven South Logan.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The phone went dead. Angela hung up, pushed aside the jittery qualm the thought of seeing Hosea Stevens outside of church caused, grabbed the piece of paper on which she had written the number for the college registrar’s office and punched in the numbers.

“Registrar’s office.”

“Hello. I’d like to speak with someone concerning the registration of a student—Cathy Anders.” Angela smiled, reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade as Cathy walked back into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, it’s too late to consider a new student. Registration closes at four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Yes, I know.” Angela poured a glassful of the cool liquid, handed it to Cathy, then directed her attention back to the woman on the phone. “I’m calling because a problem with transportation has cropped up and I want to pay what Cathy owes with my credit card right now to secure her scholarship and classes.”

“I’m sorry. That’s against Middleton College policy. The instructions we send upon acceptance of a student clearly state that students must appear in person to register and secure their classes.”

Angela frowned. “But, surely, you must have some sort of contingency plan for emergencies.”

“I’m sorry. But to allow you to pay over the phone would not be fair to those students who have made the effort to be here on time.”

“I see. Very well. Thank you for your time.” Angela refrained from slamming the receiver down, and walked over to put her arm around the teenager who had turned her back to hide her tears.

“Don’t cry, Cathy. It’s going to be all right. It’s just going to be a little more difficult than I thought. But, I promise you this, nothing is impossible with the Lord.”

The front doorbell rang.

Angela’s heart leaped into her throat. She gave the girl’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “There’s the pastor now.” She hurried to the front door and yanked it open before she gave in to her urge to run and hide.

“Hello, Pastor Stevens. Thank you for coming so quickly.” Angela stepped out onto the porch and moved aside to make room for Cathy to follow.

Hosea nodded. His gaze swept to the girl’s tense face. “Hello, Cathy, I understand you have a problem.”

The concern and compassion in his voice whisked Angela’s mind back to the night in the Crossroads Church when she had been born again. She said a quick prayer that the situation wouldn’t cause Hosea Stevens’s mind to make that same leap, then, taking a deep breath, she plunged into her request.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Pastor, but I can’t ask you in because time is of the essence. It’s imperative Cathy be at Middleton College before four o’clock this afternoon to save her scholarship and register for classes. It’s a four-hour drive to Middleton and time is getting short.”

She took another breath as Hosea checked his watch. “I’m going to drive her to Middleton—that’s settled. The problem is…well…Cathy won’t let me take her home to get her things.”

She looked up at Hosea with a silent plea in her eyes. “That’s why I called you. If you will be so kind as to take Cathy home so she can get her things, and then bring her back here as quickly as possible so we can be on our way, it will help tremendously. I promise to explain everything to you as soon as I can.”

For a long, moment Hosea Stevens simply looked at her, and then, to her immense relief, he nodded and turned to the teenager. “You’ll have to give me directions to your house, Cathy. I’m not totally familiar with the streets of Harmony just yet.”

Angela relaxed. For a moment, when he had looked at her, she had thought… She shook her head and straightened as Hosea walked Cathy to his car. If he had remembered her past, so be it. At least Cathy would be out of that house and free from the tyranny of her alcoholic father.

Angela blinked sudden moisture from her eyes and went inside to change out of her dress clothes into something more comfortable for the trip as Hosea drove away.

Thirty-five minutes gone. Angela dragged her gaze from the clock, stuffed bananas, apples, a bag of cookies and a container of mixed nuts into a wicker basket, tossed some paper napkins on top, then added a thermos of lemonade and some cups. What else? A jacket. She would need a jacket when it cooled off later.

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