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A Blessed Life

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Год написания книги
2018
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“Perfect.” He made a sound into the receiver as if he’d snapped his fingers. “Then, I have just the job for you—chaperone for tonight’s teen lock-in.”

“Oh, I don’t really—”

“Please, before you say no, hear me out.”

She had no business even thinking about volunteering for something like this. Her focus needed to always be on Tessa. Still, it would be rude not to at least give the youth minister a chance to explain. “Go ahead.”

His words came out in a rush, blending excitement and desperation. “Well, you see, there’s this lock-in tonight. It will be about thirty kids, from seventh to twelfth grades. They play board games, have organized activities, listen to clean music, watch approved videos and eat junk food.”

She carried the phone into her bedroom, past the bed and dresser that were pressed so closely together she could barely open the drawers. When she reached her messy desk by the window, she sat and pushed through the pile of works in progress.

“Yes, I know what a lock-in is. We had them all the time in our youth group.”

“Well, the special thing about this particular lock-in is that it’s my first one as youth minister. I thought I had the whole thing under control, with four chaperones—myself included—lined up. Only, Char had a family emergency, and I haven’t been able to find a replacement.”

“How many people have you asked before me?”

“About a dozen.”

She smiled into the receiver. “Glad to hear I was your first choice. What did the first twelve say?”

“They pretty much wished me the best in finding someone who was…available.”

“Then, I’ll have to do the same, I think.”

“Are you saying you’re not available?”

She could feel the tightrope swaying beneath her toes. Could she decline carefully without lying? “I never said that. But I do have one small complication—a four-year-old one. I’m new here. I don’t have any regular baby-sitters for Tessa, even if I could get someone on such short notice.”

“I wonder what would have happened if Simon, Peter and Andrew had been too busy casting nets on the Sea of Galilee to follow Jesus so he could make them ‘fishers of men.”’

“That’s not quite fair.”

“I’m just kidding. If you’re willing to chaperone, you’re more than welcome to bring Tessa. She’ll be the hit of the party. And later we can put her to bed in my room.”

“I still don’t think—”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Hey, if you’re looking for baby-sitters, this is the place to be.”

An overnight party, filled to the walls with potential baby-sitters—what could be the harm in that? She shook her head and stared out the lace-curtained window, glancing down at the street lined with old elms and maples.

She wasn’t really considering this, was she? It would take no more than one hand to enumerate the things she knew about teenagers, and at least four of those things she’d learned while living through that misery herself.

“I just don’t think it would be the best idea—”

“Do you think I’d be calling you—a new attendee, not even a church member yet—if I weren’t desperate? I have all these kids coming and not enough adults to chaperone. If you say no, I guess I’d better cancel the whole thing.” He sighed. “Please, Serena. You’re my last resort.”

“Since you put it that way…”

“Thanks, Serena. You’re a lifesaver.”

As she hung up the phone, she couldn’t help wondering if she was also a daredevil. Being in close proximity to Andrew Westin was probably not in her best interest. But for some reason, she couldn’t resist.

Andrew opened the front door to the temporary Family Life Center and led Serena and Tessa into a huge, nearly empty room. Funny, he almost wished the space had a matched living room group and heavy draperies instead of mini-blinds on the windows and folding chairs stacked against the wall. “This is our main gathering place. We meet here on Sunday mornings for singing and prayer before Sunday School and again for youth group on Sunday nights.”

“Doesn’t anybody use it during the week?” Serena looked about, seeming less than overwhelmed by the old house’s decor.

“Sure. Tuesday morning Bible study. The monthly men’s breakfast. The Christian women’s group. The church quilters. It’s almost always in use.”

“Didn’t you say you live here?”

He nodded over his shoulder as he strode toward the kitchen. “I only use part of it. Hey, Tessa. Want to see the rest of the house?”

He looked back to see the child timidly investigating each room. The resemblance between the dark-haired pixie and her mother was amazing. She would be beautiful when she grew up. Although she’d been opening and closing the dining room blinds, when he spoke, Tessa accepted his hand and went with him to the kitchen.

“Mommy, there’s a refrigerator…and a stove.”

Serena watched the two of them—already buddies—feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. Maybe volunteering was a good idea, after all.

“You’re right. Do you think there might be dishes in those cabinets?”

“Let’s see—” Tessa jerked the first door open. “Just pans.” The disappointment in her voice made both adults grin.

Andrew scooped Tessa up in his arms as if he’d done it every night of her life, whirling her about the room and stopping before each upper cabinet door so she could look inside. “They’re probably not as pretty as your mom’s dishes, but they work okay for me.”

“For you?” Tessa stopped opening doors long enough to look down at him. “Is this your house?”

He nodded. “Want to see my room?”

“Where is it?” She was already squirming to get out of his arms and investigate.

He pointed to the closed door off the kitchen. “There.” He fished a key out of his pocket and laid it in Tessa’s hand. She’d reached the lock, worked it and turned the knob before the grown-ups caught up with her.

Through the open doorway, Serena saw a smallish, blue-carpeted bedroom that had been converted to an apartment of sorts. On one wall was a roughly constructed wooden loft bed with a plaid recliner and end table beneath it. Both faced a little TV balanced on milk crates.

On the opposite wall was a set of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, built with the same primitive materials as the loft. The shelves were loaded, most of them stuffed two books deep. No more than three feet from the loft was a card table and chairs—a makeshift dinette.

Serena could feel Andrew’s eyes on her as she took in the details, but he didn’t try to interrupt her. His scrutiny made her neck feel warm.

“It’s not a mansion, but it meets my needs.”

She smiled, feeling the flush creep higher. “It looks great.” The simple awareness of him made her so uncomfortable that she scanned the room again for a distraction. Her gaze caught a Harley-Davidson poster behind the door that seemed so out of character for the stereotypical youth minister she’d created in her mind. She got the feeling there was more to Andrew Westin than she’d originally guessed.

She glanced back to find him leaning against the door, his arms crossed in a casual pose. “It’s really nice, but why don’t you use the rest of the house?” she asked. As far as she could tell, the little bathroom, the kitchen and his multipurpose room formed his apartment in only one-quarter of the square footage.

He shrugged. “There’s something about having my own space. You know what I mean?”

How odd that she did understand what he was saying. A few months ago she wouldn’t have had a clue. Now it was clear. Personal space was about being in control—taking control—when the world all around was going crazy. She would have said that to him, or at least tried to relate the connection that she felt, if not for the crash that came from the other side of the house.
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