Dorothy Clark - Hosea's Bride

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.

“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.