Breathless (2 page)

2

 

The rain had finally let up as Lydia maneuvered into a parking spot behind Warren's blue Ford Taurus sedan. She had deliberated not coming, but forced herself out of bed. It was even harder to convince herself to dress. What would it hurt if she missed one Sunday? Another prank call awakened her last night causing sleeplessness and a tear stained pillow. The new telephone system hadn't worked yet to keep the intruder out.

Warren stepped from his car when she arrived. He wore a water-stained tan suit, yellow shirt, and in his right hand he carried a dark green umbrella. She knew he waited to escort her. He always did.

“You're running a bit late.” He tightened the indigo tie stuffed under his neck. He combed his hair to the side in an attempt to hide the partial balding Sheryl had mentioned days before.

Lydia clutched her Bible in her right hand and her Gucci purse with the other. “I received another call. The Caller ID gave some 800 number. When I dialed it back, a recording said it was disconnected

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Warren offered her his elbow, which she accepted. “I would have come over if you'd let me know.” I was absorbed in a wonderful book and couldn't seem to put it down. I would have come over and stayed with you.”

Both stopped as a loud roar sounded to their left. Lydia stared as the same onyx and gold motorcycle from yesterday pulled into the lot. The noise from the bike caught anyone's attention within earshot. Lydia's heart bounced into her throat. How could she be excited at the likes of this man?

“You'd think we were starting a biker gang,” Warren said.

“I hope he's here to be saved and not cause trouble.” Lydia stifled a yawn. She gave a final glance toward the bike before proceeding toward the church for the ten o'clock service. “Have you heard anything about the new pastor?”

“No.” Warren swerved to avoid a puddle. “Sheryl doesn't have any information either. The committee kept everything hush-hush. They're likely afraid if we discovered they picked some old geezer, nobody would show up.”

“Finally.” Sheryl pushed her thick blonde curls to the side as she greeted the two. “I wasn't sure you were going to make it. If I hadn't saved you a seat, you'd have to stand.”

“It looks like all the neighboring towns have come out,” Warren said.

Sheryl grabbed hold of Warren's other arm and dragged them to the second row. “I bet that's what the committee had in mind when they kept everything so quiet. People would come just to scrutinize who they chose.”

“I hope it's not someone dull who'll put me to sleep.” Warren shrugged off his jacket. “It'd be nice to have somebody who would wake up this sleepy town.”

“Whoever he is, as long as God brought him here, he'll do fine.” Lydia tried being the voice of reason even though she wished the same thing. A fire and brimstone sermon would certainly keep her from dozing off.

She'd been raised in this old church. Her grandfather had been its first preacher. It always made her secure whenever she walked in. After all these years, as she entered the sanctuary, the full beauty still captured her breath. Large chandeliers spread over each section of oak pillars, suspended from amber-colored wrought iron. The hand-blown glass florets had been specifically created for the worship area. The pulpit sat on a raised stage below a large arch. Above the podium hung a wooden cross Lydia's father brought home from Jerusalem and presented as a gift to the congregation.

However, lately church had lost its luster for Lydia. She wondered if it was because her husband no longer sat beside her. She fought a tear slipping from her eye.

“Are you okay?” Sheryl's hand on hers stirred Lydia from her painful memories.

“A memory of Justin rushed in.”

“Why are we in the second pew?” Warren interrupted. “You must have found out he's single and wanted a closer view.”

“That's not why. I'm making sure we can hear everything clearly. That's all.” Sheryl shook from anticipation. “Did you say he was single?”

Warren and Lydia chuckled.

Lydia glanced through the crowd, waving as others looked her way. Not since Justin's funeral had such a crowd gathered. As that thought rushed over her, she wished she had stayed in bed. She had gone through her wedding album after she'd been awakened by the caller. It only depressed her more.

James Newman, III, one of the church deacons, walked to the pulpit and said a quick prayer. Lydia got the sense of anger from the darkness in his eyes. Could he be that upset about the committee's choice? After two songs from the praise and worship group, James returned to the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” He leaned into the microphone at the lectern. His white hair was more pronounced because of the dark suit he wore. “We spent a great deal of time trying to find the best person to lead our flock. We hope he meets with your approval. We decided to go with someone younger. After all, it's the next generation that will be in charge of our community soon.” James shifted from one foot to the other.

“I hear the choice made him mad,” Sheryl whispered. “He had nominated Old Man Nesmith, and the committee said they wanted an outsider. They figured some new blood might attract younger couples from the surrounding towns.”

“Probably why he wore black,” Warren added. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was in mourning.”

“Without further delay,” James continued, “please welcome Matthew Winters.”

The clapping slowed as Matthew took the stage. Jaws dropped throughout the room. Even Lydia's mouth hung wide as the motorcyclist strolled to the podium. His long, brown hair, pulled back, fell below his shoulders. A deep blue shirt was partially hidden under a black leather jacket. A dark pair of jeans led to ebony pointed cowboy boots. Below the left side of his strong jaw sat the tattoo of a snake ready to strike. His tall frame and broad shoulders reeked of masculinity, even with the ponytail.

“The committee has lost its mind.” Warren spoke loud enough to cause a snicker in the crowd.

A warm smile appeared on the stranger's face, softening his features. Lydia's pulse beat faster. Who could blame her? God designed great masterpieces.

“Give him a chance. You could actually like him.” Sheryl sat straighter in the pew. “Besides, he's good looking. And if I'm not mistaken, there's not a wedding band.” She practically sang the last part.

The minister's gaze skimmed the crowd. Lydia became very aware of the fact his focus rested on her. She could feel her body warm as she forced her breathing to stay even. He must have recalled their encounter at the diner. She wasn't exactly friendly, but then, neither was he. Those sapphire blues made her feel he could gaze into her inner core and see every emotion she experienced. After giving attention to a wrinkle in her skirt, she was able to compose herself. She hoped the heat that had rushed through her remained hidden from the others.

He preached for less than an hour on a topic she believed he chose carefully—not judging a book by its cover. His sermon contained humorous anecdotes along with a serious message. While he spoke, no one left their seat. The whole congregation seemed to enjoy him. Everyone but James Newman, III, whose jaw clenched throughout the entire service. With every “Amen” from the crowed, his teeth tightened. Lydia thought she heard them grinding from the other side of the aisle.

“I swear James is about to have a heart attack,” Warren whispered once the sermon was complete. “From how red his face is, I think he's going to explode.”

“James isn't used to being told no,” Lydia said. “But he'll adjust. He always does.”

Matthew Winters wound his way to the doorway to greet parishioners as they left. Six-foot-three or four, and powerfully built. His jeans gave a hint as to his masculine legs. Lydia jerked her head away to keep from staring. No matter how nice, it had to be disrespectful to stare at a minister like that, particularly standing in a church. Her grandfather's church at that. Praying for forgiveness, she grabbed her purse from the pew.

“Lydia, my dear.” James tugged her into a hug. “How are you today?”

“I'm doing well. How are you and Melanie?” Garlic emanated from his breath. She ran her hand discreetly across her nose.

“We're fine.” James shook hands with Warren and pecked Sheryl's cheek. “What did you three think of Mr. Winters?”

“I liked him. I believe he'll do wonderful,” Warren said with more enthusiasm than he should have. “On the other hand, Sheryl considers him dreamy.”

“Very funny, Warren.” Sheryl nudged him with her elbow.

“She apparently isn't alone.” James flashed a glance in Matthew's direction.

Three single women giggled around him. A wave of jealousy crossed over Lydia, taking her by surprise.

“I suggest you hurry, the masses are already gathering.” Warren poked Sheryl in the ribs.

“Lydia, how about you drop by for lunch?” James held Lydia by the wrist. “Melanie would love to visit with you, and Jimmy will be there. He's fresh out of another rehab stint and could use a friend.”

“Unfortunately, we already have plans,” Sheryl chimed in. “How long will he be staying with you?”

“I'm not positive. Hopefully long enough to pull himself together.” James released his hold. “Maybe some other time.” He nodded before making his retreat.

A sigh of relief came over Lydia. “I don't recall making any plans. What are we doing?”

“Anything to keep James from trying to fix you up with his loser son.” Sheryl rolled her eyes. “Let's get in line and introduce ourselves to the new minister.”

“You two go ahead, I want to go over and talk to Wendy,” Warren said. “Besides, I'd hate to find myself caught in the swarm of women who are about to devour the new preacher.”

Sheryl kept her eyes on Warren as he walked to the stage where Wendy Moreland gathered sheet music. “Do you think he likes her?”

“If he does, I hope it's reciprocated,” Lydia said. “Wendy's a nice lady. They'd make a good couple.”

“Let's meet the new minister.” Sheryl dragged Lydia forward. “It'll be hard concentrating with a preacher who's so
hot
. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.”

“I'm tired. I'm just going to head home.” Lydia wanted to slink far from this man. Just a day before she yearned to smack him for blocking her route at Fred's Diner.

“Not before greeting Matthew. I like that name. It's so biblical.” Sheryl caught Lydia by the arm. “Besides, your grandparents are founding members, so you need to welcome him. It's proper protocol.”

“If he was seventy and ugly, would it still be proper?” Lydia grudgingly went along. As she proceeded forward, a shiver descended her spine. A shudder came over as if being spied on.

“What's wrong? You've hardly said a word.” Sheryl leaned into her. “I could tell you barely heard half of what was preached. Is it Justin?”

“No. Well, a little.” Lydia motioned for Sheryl to pull out of line and go to the far end of a pew for privacy. “I'm still receiving the calls, even after buying the new phone.”

“Can you tell who it is yet?”

“No. It sounds like they're disguising their voice.”

“It has to be somebody you would recognize, otherwise why change their voice?”

“That's the worst part.” Lydia scoured the building, glancing at those she used to trust. “It could be anyone.” She hesitated before continuing. “He doesn't say much except he's watching me. And, I swear he's ...” Lydia hoped to make Sheryl understand without having to say it.

“He's what?”

“You know.” She nodded her head at an angle and raised her eyebrows to try to get her friend to understand.

“You mean he's—” Sheryl's tone raised an octave, causing people to turn in their direction. “That's sick.”

They stood in silence, waiting for the others to return to their own business.

“Let's do lunch at your house,” Sheryl said. “We'll bring Warren, too. Whoever it is won't mess with you as long as he's with us.” She referred to Warren's six-foot build. He'd taken up weight lifting and boxing in the past year, and gone from a scrawny man to a muscular one.

“He only calls at night. I'm certain it's to make me fully aware of them.” Lydia skimmed the faces of the stragglers in the sanctuary as though she might see some hint as to her irritant. “If that's their plan, it's working.”

“We should make Riley aware of what's happening.”

“The police have been over but they can't trace the caller. I'm not sure it's something to worry the sheriff about.”

“It can't be a coincidence. The anniversary of Justin's death is in a couple of days and you start getting anonymous calls. It doesn't sound right.” Sheryl leaned in closer as a deacon passed by. “We'll stop by real quick and say hi to the pastor as we leave.”

Lydia straggled behind. The closer they got to Matthew, the more anxious she became. She knew it would be silly to hope he didn't recall her.

“Pastor, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Sheryl Coufield,” she gushed. “This is my friend Lydia Frederickson.”

Lightning shot up Lydia's arm as masculine fingers covered her hand. She gathered all her willpower not to yank away. His eyes caused a skip in her heartbeat as she stared into their rich blue color, similar to a clear pool any woman would long to dive into.

“Lydia, that's an enchanting name.” He continued his hold. “Were you named for the woman in the book of Acts?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Her mouth seemed glued shut. She hoped nobody else detected the beads of sweat popping out on her forehead.

“We bumped into each other, almost literally, yesterday.” He paused before adding, “At the diner.”