The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek (4 page)

The realization threw her off balance and made her feel as if a weird and wonderful force had taken over her being and filled her with lustful thoughts and desires she hadn’t experienced for years.
Good heavens, Adam is a hottie
.

She felt slightly blasphemous having such thoughts about a minister.

After their second win, Adam passed bottles of water to the other players, then picked up one himself and poured most of it over him before he took a deep drink.

“Great game, guys,” Adam said.

“Thanks, Pops!” Hector high-fived him, then Hector and Bobby did a complicated handshake that included fist bumps.

“Hector, box out better on the rebounds,” Adam coached. “Mac, great hustle.”

When they’d cooled off, Mac said, “Let’s sit down and study the competition.”

“Hey, girl,” Bobby answered. “We’re good. We don’t need to watch them.”

After Hector glared at him, Bobby headed to the side of the court to study the competition.

“Sometimes he has a problem with attitude,” Hector explained before he joined Bobby.

“You coming?” Mac said. “Good view of Gussie from where Hector and Bobby are,” she whispered.

Adam attempted to give her the same glare Hector had used. Didn’t work. She just grinned at him.

“Mac?” he threatened.

“Okay, Pops. I’ll shut up.” She joined the others, and he followed.

Although determined to watch the other two teams fight it out, Adam’s eyes slid toward Gussie, who concentrated on the competition and cheered for both sides. He did have a good view of her.

“Great play!” Gussie’s shout echoed around the court as she smiled. He really liked Gussie’s smile.

Adam felt an elbow in his side, then Mac whispered, “If you’re going to fool anyone, you have to stop looking dopey.”

So he watched the game and forcefully kept his eyes on the players until the team from Llano won.

In the break before the final game, Gussie went back into the cool of the main building to splash water from the drinking fountain on her face. Fortifying herself, she glugged down several gulps of water.

“You okay, Gussie?” From one of the tables, Jimmy Flock watched her with concern.

“Fine, just really hot out there.” Water trickled down her chin as she fanned herself.

“Okay. Be careful.” He dropped his eyes to his book.

Odd that the minister who always questioned her about her love life hadn’t recognized the fact that lust had just broadsided her.

She forced herself back outside to watch the final game. She had to face and accept the fact that she’d felt again, that attraction had filled her, had sizzled inside her. It still did. Yearning had escaped from the core of her being, and she could ignore neither her attraction to Adam nor the despair it caused. She preferred to think of all men as being gender-neutral but couldn’t manage to believe that about Adam anymore.

For a moment, she longed to go back in time thirteen or fourteen or twenty years, to be the young Gussie Milton who’d believed in love and goodness, who trusted others. But that person had died nearly half a lifetime ago.

She watched the game, her gaze following Adam all around the court.

“Go, teams,” she cheered as the team from Llano was able to get the ball over midcourt for the first time in a couple of plays.

How old was he? Twenty-five, she guessed. Twenty-six? Had that been on the application and the background check they’d had to run? Probably. Six years younger. The age difference made her feel like a dirty old lady, sitting here, ogling him.

After the game, she’d put all thoughts of his manly features back in the lockbox in her brain that she bolted securely. For now, she’d allow herself to watch and enjoy. She stood and clapped after Bobby made a spectacular jumping, twisting dunk and joined in the cheers when Adam stole the inbounds pass.

“Cut,” Adam yelled, and Bree worked her way under the basket for an easy layup.

“Pops,” Hector shouted after he’d stolen the ball. With a perfect bounce pass, he fed Adam, who made a long shot.

Then Bobby dribbled inside for a dunk and Mac made a pair of free throws. The game was over, and Butternut Creek had won. Gussie stood and clapped. “Great game,” she shouted.

Then she very firmly locked up her feelings again.

“Time for vespers, guys.” Adam tossed the last of the crumpled-up napkins in the recycle bin.

“You religious people sure spend a lot of time praying,” Bobby said. “Not that I mind ’cause I know this is a church thing, but wouldn’t one prayer a day pretty much say what you need to? Why not make it a little longer so you get everything in? Or maybe bless all the meals at the same time.”

“Yeah,” Hector agreed. “I mean you say them at every meal and in the morning and a couple of times at night. I bet you people pray before you take a shower.”

“Or play basketball,” Bobby added.

“No, never before a game of basketball.” Adam turned toward the guys. “I don’t pray then because I want the other team to pray while we run all over them.”

“Pops, that was weak.” Hector finished wiping the tables. When he tossed the dishcloth toward the dish basin with sudsy water, Adam swatted toward it and missed. “See, you can’t even block my shots.”

Adam watched Gussie during the group skits later after vespers. What in the world had happened? Her smiles and laughter seemed forced and artificial. When his group had parodied a gospel group singing rap, she looked distracted while everyone else laughed.

After they’d finished the skits, he caught up to her as she stopped to check her message box. “Hey,” Adam said. “This is a great retreat. Thanks for all the work you do.”

She glanced at one of the notes in her hand before she looked up at him. “It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“Something like this can change lives. I hope it has for Hector.”

“Me, too.”

“I first considered going into the ministry at summer church camp,” he said at the same time Gussie scanned another message. “Anyway, you look busy. Thanks again and good night.”

She nodded. “Night.”

Gussie could kick herself. It wasn’t Adam’s fault that his presence scared and befuddled her, but she couldn’t allow him or anyone else to see how much he attracted her. For heaven’s sake, she was Gussie Milton, old maid, and she had a yearning for this…this
kid
. Not that she planned to jump his bones—where had that phrase come from?—although the idea didn’t horrify her as much as she’d thought it might.

But the attraction didn’t mean she should behave rudely, even if she had no idea how to act. She called after him, “Loved your group’s skit.”

He turned, waved, and walked away.

After the closing prayer Sunday morning, Adam picked up his bag to stow it in the van. As he turned back toward the dispersing youth, he noticed that Hector had picked up Bree’s duffel bag.

Well, well, well. A romance? Not that he’d kid either Hector or Bree. He figured Bobby and Mac would take care of embarrassing them.

Once everyone had settled in, he checked on the seating. Bree and Hector shared the back bench. Bobby and Mac took the chairs, and Adam drove alone. Just as well. The kids would fall asleep anyway and be useless in keeping him awake.

As he started the van he glanced at the crowd, searching for Gussie. Stupid because she had no interest in him, but he kept looking. Finally, as he drove out of the campground, he saw her in the rearview mirror watching their vehicle pull out.

At eight forty-five Monday morning, Adam heard the door into the reception area from the parking lot open and knew trouble had arrived. Couldn’t be Maggie. She didn’t show up until later. He guessed it was at least one Widow, maybe more. Right now, he didn’t feel like facing any of them. Could he sneak out a window?

Stupid response. He couldn’t hide from the Widows. He’d known they’d descend on him as soon as the pillar had debriefed her granddaughters and they could gather. Oh, maybe he could dodge them for an hour or two, even a day, but they’d catch up to him eventually, hunting him down like a pack of Miss Marples.

At least he’d arrived early to prepare himself. In front of him, he had a cup of coffee and a Bible. He’d spent a few minutes in meditation, but they hadn’t given him enough time. He wished he had another thirty minutes to brace himself, but he didn’t. He folded his hands and awaited the inevitable.

“Pastor, are you here?” Mercedes called.

Before she’d finished the sentence, the pillar stomped into his study, folded her arms, and stared at him while she stood at the door like a rock in the middle of a creek. The three other Widows—Blossom had joined them—flowed around her and headed toward the chairs in front of the desk.

He stood and reached toward Blossom. “Welcome. Good to see you.”

She smiled as she shook his hand. Then all the Widows, including the newest, sat.

Except for Miss Birdie. When she finally strode toward the desk, she stood behind the chair Blossom had snatched and glared. “We came to discuss the retreat,” Winnie said.

Before he could say anything, Blossom looked over her shoulder at Miss Birdie. She must have felt the intensity of her expression. “Why aren’t you sitting down?” she whispered.

“Because you are sitting in my chair,” Miss Birdie whispered back. The pillar had the loudest whisper of anyone Adam had ever heard. When she whispered, people obeyed.

Including Blossom. She leaped to her feet, scuttled to another chair, and sat down. With a smile, Miss Birdie lowered herself into her place.

“You’ll notice, Preacher, Blossom has joined us
this morning
.” Miss Birdie’s voice underlined the temporary nature of Blossom as a Widow—it was the pillar, after all, who had the final say.

“Good to see all of you,” Adam said.

“We came to discuss the retreat,” Winnie repeated.

“Went very well. I believe the young people had a great time.” He smiled at Miss Birdie. “What did Bree and Mac tell you?”

The pillar leaned forward. “They told me
nothing
happened between you and Gussie.” She sat back and shook her head in disgust.

“Oh, dear,” Blossom said. “Is that good or bad?”

Birdie ignored her and plowed ahead. “That’s what my granddaughters say. Nothing happened.”

“I don’t know why we bother to send you off on these weekend excursions,” Winnie said, “if you aren’t going to take advantage of them.”

Adam could explain that his finding a wife had not been the purpose of the retreat but he’d said it so often and the explanation did so little good, he didn’t.

“Bree did say that you and Gussie patrolled the grounds Friday night,” the pillar said.

“Alone,” Mercedes added. “Only the two of you.”

“Did anything happen?” Winnie asked. “Did you make a move?”

“Yes,” Adam said.

Three of the women scooted forward in their chairs and watched him like a boggle of weasels eyeing a terrified rabbit. Blossom moved forward a few beats later, which made him think the newest and possibly temporary Widow didn’t realize exactly what was going on.

“I…” But he couldn’t say any more, because he’d started laughing so hard at their hopeful expressions. Three of them looked at him as if his response had exceeded the bounds of decorum. Blossom still looked confused and uncertain. Their expressions made him laugh harder.

When he could finally speak, he said, “Do you really believe that
if
anything happened between me and any woman, I’d tell you about it?”

When the comment made them look both confused and exasperated, he added, “Not that anything has happened between me and a woman recently, but I
do
have a private life. You may deny that, but I do deserve a little space of my own.”

“I guess you do,” Winnie said grudgingly. She turned toward Miss Birdie and said, “He does have that right. He doesn’t have to tell us everything.”

The pillar narrowed her eyes and said, “We still expect you to do something about…”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He grinned. “Thank you, ladies, for your concern. It’s good to see you. Now, tell me about plans for the spring bazaar and chicken spaghetti dinner.”

“We’re meeting every afternoon, the ladies of the church, to start on crafts,” Mercedes said. “Blossom’s a real hand with colors and painting.”

Miss Birdie counted on her fingers as she said, “Pansy’s getting the food organized, Winnie’s getting donations from the businesses, I’m working with the community center on the setup, and Mercedes is in charge of publicity.”

“Sounds as if everything is well in hand.” Not that Adam doubted that. He hurried to introduce another topic before they were tempted to return to their own. “I’ve heard Jesse’s brother still needs care. Can you tell me anything about him?”

Sunday evening, Ouida stood on the porch and drew in the beauty of Butternut Creek. She loved the town at this time, as the day wound down. The sun had set and the sky had paled to gray. The girls were in bed, sweet smelling from their baths, and she had a moment of quiet.

“Ouida, would you get me a newspaper?” George called. As she went back inside and crossed the living room, she picked up the newspaper and headed toward the kitchen.

When George placed his shoe-shine box on the kitchen table, she handed him a section. He placed his shoes on top of it. His best pair. Oh, he had other pairs, but this was his favorite: Italian and expensive but, he always said, very comfortable. They were gorgeous. A little flashy for George, Ouida had always thought, with the narrow silhouette and the midnight-gray trim a little lighter—only a tiny bit—than the glossy black leather.

He sat down and, using a special rag, began his favorite Sunday chore by gently cleaning any dust or dirt that dared to settle on the glossy leather surface.