Chapter 30
“Oh, hello,” Pastor Steve said, coming down the hall the other way when Sage was safely in the door.
Instantly she straightened, tossing her shoulders back and raising her chin. “I’m… hello, Pastor. I didn’t see you there.”
He smiled softly, the reading glasses perched on his nose and the papers in his hands. “Tell you what, why don’t you call me Steve?”
Sage’s eyes went wide and she took in a small gasp. “Oh, uh.”
His smile just increased. “Unless you prefer Pastor.”
She didn’t have a clue what to say to that, and her tongue felt like it was made of concrete.
A second and he glanced back down the hall. “I think Jane’s in the living room reading.”
Why did nodding feel like it was going to break her in two? “Okay.”
Carefully as he stepped over into his office, she hugged the wall and started to the living room. There was no way to get to her room from here without going through there, and at that moment, digging a hole to go through China sounded like the better option. Knowing the questions, comments, and accusations were coming, she steeled her nerves and stepped into the little room with the mismatched furniture.
“Oh, Sage.” Mrs. Mitchell whipped the glasses off of her face and smiled. “I wondered if that was you.”
“It’s me,” she squeaked out, fighting not to pass out from the blood rushing to her head.
Mrs. Mitchell smiled wider and patted the couch beside her. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Because I want to run? “O… kay.” Every move was calculated with care as Sage sat on the edge of the couch, feeling how she was dressed or not dressed which was more the point. This was not what one wore to visit the pastor’s wife.
“So how was your day?” Mrs. Mitchell closed the book in her lap as her full gaze came over to Sage.
The nod somehow betrayed her before she could draw it back. “Good.”
However, Mrs. Mitchell seemed to drill into that word with her gaze. “Good-good? Or just good?”
Sage chanced one glance that direction as she smoothed out her jeans. “Good-good. We went over to Greely, to the antique stop there.”
That piqued her hostess’s attention. “Antiques? I didn’t know you were a fan of antiques.”
“Oh.” Real and not real battled for control, reaching through the mirror in hand-to-hand combat for how to answer that. “Um, I don’t do much of it anymore, but my mom and I…” Don’t say it, Sage. Don’t let her know you were poor.
“You and your mom?” Mrs. Mitchell tipped her head in question.
“I…” Sage let her gaze drop to her hands. No polish on her nails. She was a mess. “When I was little, sometimes we would go. She always found really cool stuff.”
“What a neat way to spend a day.”
The nod was overtaken by the sadness. “I haven’t done that in a really long time though.”
“But it was nice to do it again?”
She couldn’t stop the softness from touching her heart. “Yeah, it was.”
All afternoon as he fixed his grandmother’s dresser in the little shed, Luke thought about her, prayed for her, and tried to game out what happened from here. She couldn’t stay at the pastor’s forever, and going home didn’t seem an option—either home. No, the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that if God didn’t show up, there just wasn’t a good option to be found, and that was frightening him to the core.
Supper was quiet. Chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, which Mrs. Mitchell apologized for about 32 million times. However, Sage didn’t care. She was thankful she wasn’t out on the street.
They discussed the coming church services, some lady who had gotten sick over the last week, how the pastor needed to get over to the nursing home in Greely to visit a long-time church member, and the desperate need for a new refrigerator. Sage remembered Luke mentioning that, but rather than participate in the conversation by saying that, she simply sat, ate, and tried to blend in to the wall.
At the end of supper when Mrs. Mitchell stood to do the dishes, Sage bolted to her feet. “I’ll get these. It’s the least I can do.”
Both of them looked at her in shock.
“Sage, you don’t have to…” Mrs. Mitchell started.
“No. Please. I want to.” She lifted her eyes open farther. “Please.”
Finally with one glance exchange between them, Mrs. Mitchell nodded. “I guess that would be okay.”
As Sage washed the dishes, she thought about the arrangement, she thought about home and who was doing the dishes there, she thought about her mother and Jason. At some point she was going back there. She knew it though she knew what they had promised. Sometimes promises weren’t worth the air they traveled on.
The phone in her pocket vibrated, and she dried her hands to dig it out, glad her hosts had gone to other parts of the house. She swiped it on.
Just thought I’d tell you I’m thinking about you.
Sage shook her head and sighed. How could he make her feel so wanted and loved with one sentence? She typed her reply that she’d text him later because she was doing the dishes, and she hit send. It was nice to be loved.
They had texted back and forth most of Thursday evening, and Friday Luke had to deliver the dresser and go help Mr. Conrad fix the loose shingles on his barn. Sage knew that and figuring it wasn’t a great idea to have him texting on the roof, she mostly kept herself busy dusting everything in sight. The pastor and his wife had gone to Greely to visit Mrs. Sullivan though they had both expressed concern about leaving her home alone.
Sage had finally convinced them she was fine, and she would try very hard not to burn the house down in their absence. With a laugh, they relented and left. So she found a rag in the kitchen and set about dusting. Dusting had turned out to be something of a nice pastime. She wasn’t locked in her room, and it gave her a subtle way of getting to know those she was staying with.
Plus, she had learned some things about how to dust with the intent to learn. No longer did she do the task just to get through it. Now as she picked each piece up or dusted each picture on the wall, she took the time to notice it, to study it, to see what it could teach her about those who lived here. One thing she was learning was that those who wanted to remember did so with pictures. The Mitchells were no different. There was the picture of their wedding and a couple of them in the church. There was one of Mrs. Mitchell wrinkling her nose into the camera as she stood on the beach, and one of the pastor holding a small boy.
That’s when Sage began to wonder about them. They clearly loved each other and the Lord. Had they chosen not to have children, or had life somehow chosen that for them? She wished she could ask, but she would never dare.
Picking up the little tea cup, she plotted out what she would do once she finished with the dusting. Surely there was a Bible around here somewhere. She could do a search on her phone for the elusive passage about the tea cup. She wanted to find it. She needed to find it. And she floated on that thought for the next two hours.
When Luke took a break at three, he sent her a text. He hoped she had asked them, but just in case, he figured reminding her couldn’t hurt.
Sage was sitting on the couch, the Bible she had found in the living room end table on her lap and her phone in her hands when the pastor and his wife came home. He stopped in his office, she didn’t.
“Oh, Sage,” Mrs. Mitchell said as if she was surprised to see her.
Instantly Sage was moving, closing the book as if she’d been caught robbing a jewelry store. “I’m sorry. I was just…”
“No,” Mrs. Mitchell said, holding up her hand to stop her. “No, honey. I didn’t mean you have to leave. Just surprised to see you out here.”
Sage tugged on her blouse. “I’m sorry. I can go.”
Mrs. Mitchell laughed out loud at that. “Really, you don’t have to hole up in your room. You’re welcome to be out here.”
“Oh.” Then Sage looked down at the book in her hands, realizing she should explain that too. “Um, I was just… reading a little.”
“Good book to start with,” Mrs. Mitchell said with a light in her eyes. “Do you have a favorite passage?” Coming over, she sat in one of the chairs, and very carefully Sage sat back on the couch.
“Um, well, actually, I’ve been trying to find the tea cup passage, but I must not be very good at this because I haven’t been able to find it.”
“The tea cup passage?” Mrs. Mitchell held her hand out for the book, and Sage handed it to her. “I’m not familiar with that one.”
“Oh. Hm.” Wow was it a challenge to not shrink in total embarrassment. “It’s the one Pastor Steve was telling us about the other day, about the tea cup and how it’s chipped and all.”
That drove even more confusion to Mrs. Mitchell’s face as she fanned through the Bible. A second and she ducked backward. “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you come here a minute?”
Oh, no. Sage wanted to dissolve under the sofa. What was Mrs. Mitchell doing? Didn’t she know he was the pastor? He was busy. He was important. He didn’t have time for this.
“What’s up?” he asked, coming into the living room.
“Sage has been looking for the tea cup passage,” his wife said. “But that’s not one I’m familiar with. She said you were telling her about it?”
“Tea cup…? Oh. The tea cup.” Pastor Steve laughed, and Sage really considered running. However, there was mirth not disappointment when he looked at her. He sat down on the armrest of his wife’s chair. “No. That wasn’t from the Bible. That was something…” He stood, went over to the tea cup on the shelf, picked it up, brought it over, and sat down on the opposite side of the couch with her. “I was telling them that God’s love for us is like my love for this tea cup. It’s mis-matched and it’s chipped, but that someone, somewhere thought it valuable enough not to throw away, and how that reminds me about how God values us even though we’re chipped and mis-matched and not perfect.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Mitchell nodded and laughed as well. “I should have known.” She closed the Bible. “Sage, if you’re going to hang around here very long, you’re going to have to get used to Steve finding some lesson about God in everything.”
That tipped Sage’s head in confusion though she wanted to understand.
“It was one of the first things that made me fall in love with him,” Mrs. Mitchell continued. “Remember the one about the salt shaker?”
He laughed. “Oh, no. Don’t remind me.” He stood and replaced the tea cup on the shelf as his wife burst out laughing.
Sage wasn’t quite following, and she was sure her face registered that fact.
“We were just out of college, living on a penny and a prayer. I’m not even sure you’d gotten your first placement.” She looked at her husband.
“No. We were living in that little dump of an apartment at that point.” Coming back, he sat back down. “That one over the garage.”
“That’s right. We were.” His wife smiled at him lovingly. “Well, one night he was studying something about the salt of the earth and how it flavors food but if it goes flat, then you just throw it out. He got all into this sermon as we were eating, and he picks up the salt shaker, and…” She was about in tears, she was laughing so hard. “He flipped it over, and…”
Her husband shook his head though there was a smile on his face as well. “The lid wasn’t on good, and the salt went everywhere, all over my meal and the table and the floor.”
“Talk about a lot of flavor!”
Sage had never seen anyone laugh that hard, and she was trying to figure out what to do with it. Should she laugh as well? She wanted to, but was that appropriate?
Pastor Steve leaned over to Sage. “And she has never let me forget that one either.”
Finally, wiping her eyes, Mrs. Mitchell came back to the present, still quaking with the laugher. “There’s never a dull moment with Steve around.” Her laughter was coming back down to the ground, and she looked at him. “But that’s why I love him. He keeps life interesting.”
And then, Sage began to really feel the love that was in that room. The room was literally nothing special. Bland walls, mis-matched furniture, flattened shag carpet, and yet… She looked at them, individually and as a couple. They were simple people. A lot like the others she had met upon coming here. No fancy clothes, cars or shoes. But they were getting something right. Something important. Something she could feel when she let herself though it still felt just out of her reach.
“Okay, well now that you got that out of your system.” The pastor stood, walked over to his wife, kissed her head as she grasped his hand with hers, and he nodded to Sage. “If you need me to find any more passage—real or imagined—I’ll just be down here.”
And with that he walked off.
Sage wasn’t sure she shouldn’t be offended by the imagined comment. It didn’t sound like an insult, but she was pretty good at giving those subtle digs herself.
However, when he was gone, Mrs. Mitchell looked at her, her eyes shining and happy. “So what was it about the tea cup story that got you?”
Oh, wow. Sage hadn’t realized she would be quizzed. Her eyes went wide with the fear of interrogation. “Oh, I don’t…”
But the softness of Mrs. Mitchell’s face went with her when she shook her head. “I know things have been tough since you got here, and by here, I mean to town. I can only imagine how it’s been.” She folded her hands and leaned back, her gaze going only to her fingers. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of stuff to do, but if you’re interested, I have a little story for you.”
Something about her tone dragged Sage’s interest out. “Sure.”
A moment and a nod, and Mrs. Mitchell looked at her. “I may not know exactly how you feel, but I remember how it felt, how I felt when Steve and I first started going together. I was quite young and honestly from the wrong side of the tracks. My dad was a drunk, and my mom worked two jobs trying to keep me and my two brothers fed with a roof over our heads.”
Why that surprised Sage so very much, she didn’t know, but it did.
“Steve’s daddy was a preacher, and completely against stereotype, Steve was a really good guy. He and his mom would come over sometimes and bring Steve’s old clothes for the boys to wear. They’d bring casseroles and stuff too when Daddy wasn’t there. Nicest people you’d ever want to meet.” She sighed. “When we got into high school, there was this guy who was always pestering me to go out. He was really creepy, and one day he was hanging around my locker trying to get me to go out with him, and he would not take no for an answer. Steve was just a couple lockers down, and he heard the guy.
“Course Steve wasn’t some weight lifter who could beat the guy up to make him stay away from me, so he came over and asked why the guy was hitting on his girlfriend. I’m not sure who was more surprised, the guy or me.” She giggled softly, and then her gaze dropped. “After the guy left, I told Steve he shouldn’t be telling lies like that, and he said it wouldn’t be a lie if I really did go out with him.”
Sage’s heart melted. She knew a guy exactly like that. “So you went out with him?”
“Eventually.” Mrs. Mitchell’s eyes were soft and laced with moisture when they came up. “But it took me a long time to figure out he really was serious about loving those chipped tea cups.”
At that, Sage’s heart and gaze fell.
“I’m not a preacher,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “I don’t have the degrees on the wall or anything like that, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
Without lifting her gaze, Sage nodded.
Luke typed another message when he headed home, determined that if she didn’t text back, he was personally going to go find out what was going on before the sun went down.
The phone in her pocket buzzed, and Sage jumped, her eyes going wide as she dug it out. “Um.”
“No. No. Don’t mind me. I have some dishes to put away.” And with that, Mrs. Mitchell excused herself.
Sage read the text. Are we still on for tonight?
Tonight. The bonfire.
Even the thought sent shivers running the wrong way down her spine. Uh, I haven’t asked yet.
You want me to?
She let out a breath. He didn’t give up. She sighed. No. I’ll go ask.
Knowing she had no choice, she stood and tried to smooth herself out from the living room to the kitchen where she found Mrs. Mitchell who turned at the motion by the door.
“Oh, Sage. Do you need something, honey?”
A swallow and Sage picked up her phone and tipped it in the air. “That was Luke. He was… well, he was wondering if we could go to the bonfire tonight.”
“I don’t see why not.”
Really? Sage could give her a catalog of good reasons why not. “You don’t mind?”
“Well,” Mrs. Mitchell seemed to question her own decision. “Hang on, let me ask Steve.”
Sage held the phone in front of her, knowing he was going to text again if she didn’t answer. Two minutes and Mrs. Mitchell came back in.
“Steve said to invite Luke over for supper first. Then y’all can go out for a while.”
Oh, how could it have gotten worse? “Oh. Okay.”
And so, Luke showed back up at the pastor’s on Friday night as the sun was starting its decent from the sky. He raked his hair back, adjusted his jacket, and reached up to knock. Tamping his fear down, he let his gaze go out to the street. Surely by now everyone knew the situation, so why did his heart rev up when a car went down the street beyond? “Don’t think about them. They’re going to say what they’re going to say.”
“Oh, hi, Luke,” Mrs. Mitchell said, opening the door. “Come on in.”
“Luke,” Pastor Steve said as he helped Sage set the table. He put out his hand.
“Thanks for having me.” Luke shook the pastor’s hand, looking really overdressed for the bonfire, and more nervous than Sage had ever seen him.
She was across the way, pulling out silverware, and suddenly her fingers felt like butter. Her gaze slipped up over to him, and he half-smiled at her as if merely looking at each other might get them both in serious trouble.
“Sorry we’re not more fancy,” the pastor said, putting out the plates.
“Oh, no, no, that’s fine,” Luke said, holding up his hands. “Uh, what can I help with?”
And just like that, they were all bringing things to the table. In minutes they were seated around it, and the pastor offered grace.
Strangely, Sage got the same feeling she’d had earlier in the living room, of comfortable, nobody-has-to-impress-anybody love. She wished she could capture it somehow, bottle it, and bring it with her everywhere.
“So, you’re going out to the bonfire tonight,” the pastor said as they each filled their plates. “Is it at Chester’s?”
“Yes,” Luke said formally. “It should only be the kids from around here though. I think there’s a dance in Greely.”
The pastor nodded. “What goes on at these bonfires anyway?”
Luke shrugged. “Just a bunch of kids hanging out mostly.”
“And the fighting thing, was that from people drinking?”
His glance was surprised and quick. Sage put her head down, feeling their judgment. “Uh, no, sir. Actually, there was a guy there—Rory Harris. You might know him. They come to the church sometimes.”
“I know the Harrises,” the pastor confirmed.
“Well, let’s just say Rory didn’t exactly know how to take Sage’s no for an answer.”
Her head was down now, and although her gaze was on her food, she never saw it.
“So I was just helping him with his vocabulary skills is all,” Luke continued, and he forked potatoes into his mouth as if he hadn’t just set off a bombshell at the table.
“Oh.” The pastor nodded three times and then looked to his wife who raised her eyebrows. “Well, sometimes those things happen.”
His wife smiled at him softly. “Yes, they do.”
“I can’t believe they let me come,” Sage said as they headed out an hour later.
Luke looked across at her and smiled. “I sure am glad because I’d hate to have to go to jail for busting you out of the pastor’s house.” His hand tightened around hers. “How’s that going anyway?”
She pulled in a long breath. “Good actually. I’m learning a lot.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Like tea cups aren’t in the Bible, and people aren’t always what you think they are at first.”
He lifted his chin and lowered it slowly. “Sounds like good lessons.”
“They are.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but Luke was bracing himself for what happened when they got to the bonfire. However, he didn’t want her to get more nervous because of him, so he forced his own jitters down as he helped her from the car. The party was already in full swing with music and people here, there, and everywhere. Together, they walked into the small but boisterous crowd, and the closer they got, the closer Sage got to him.
“If you want to go,” he said, ducking so only she could hear him, “just say the word.”
She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. “Word?”
The laugh probably didn’t help, but it was out before he could stop it. He pulled her to him and kissed her hair. “That would be that creative thing I keep hearing about.”
At that, she smiled too. “Something like that.”
“Hey, Luke,” Rachel said, coming over. Her gaze slid from him to Sage. “Hi. It’s Sage, right?”
“Yeah.” Sage shrugged from behind him, her oversized dusty rose crocheted top came with her small hand when she put it out to Rachel. “Rachel, right?”
“Yeah.” Rachel shook her hand and then looked up to Luke. “I haven’t seen Jaycee. Is she coming?”
He wanted to deck Rachel, but it wasn’t her fault. “Oh. I’m not sure. Haven’t talked to her in a couple of days.” Then he looked down at Sage and put his arm around her, casually but pointedly. “Come on. Let’s go get a Coke. See ya, Rach.”
“Yeah,” Rachel said with no hint of happiness.
Luke steered Sage over to one of the coolers and got himself a Coke. “What do you want?”
She stayed back and put her arms over herself. “Oh, I’m fine.”
“There’s Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper, some tea things. How about Gatorade?”
“Uh. You really don’t have to.”
“Darlin’, my hand is going to freeze off my body here if you don’t tell me what you want.”
Sage lifted her eyebrows at that. “Fine. Coke.”
He came back up, two Cokes in hand. “There. Now was that so hard?”
Opening one, he handed it to her.
“Oh!” she said under her breath just as she took a drink.
“What? You didn’t want the Coke?”
“No. I love this song. I haven’t heard this in months.”
Song. Somehow Luke hadn’t realized there were actual songs being played just general music to fill in the gaps. He opened his own Coke and took a drink as he listened. “What is it?”
“Baby,” she sang. “You don’t have to call me. You don’t have to…” She swayed with the music and did a little bopping thing with her knees.
Fascinated, Luke backed up and looked at her. “I didn’t know you dance.”
“Only when nobody can see me.” She smiled up at him as she did a circle around herself. Then she took another drink and kept bopping. “How about you? Do you dance?”
“As little as possible.” He took a drink. “I think Homecoming my freshman year scarred me for life.”
Her bopping slowed. “When you went with Jaycee?” Funny how they could have an entire conversation hiding behind sips of soda.
“That would be the one.” He shrugged. “Mostly the girls did the mob dancing thing, and us guys hung out in the corner and prayed they wouldn’t remember we were there.”
“Brave. Very brave.”
“Smart. Very smart.”
She turned wide, doe-eyes up at him. “So then you wouldn’t dance with me if I asked?”
That was a trick question and he knew it, so instead of answering, he took a drink. “You don’t want to dance with me. Trust me on that one.”
However, he knew with one look that he was going to get talked into doing just that. “I dare you.”
“No, now, come on. That’s not fair and you know it.”
“I double-dog, triple-cat dare you.”
“Triple-cat? That’s not even a thing.” He took a sip. “It’s like prunicated. It only exists in your mind.”
“If it exists in my mind, then it exists.” With that she set her can on the road and came up, putting her hands on her hips in challenge. “One dance.”
“No.”
“It’s one dance.”
He took a sip. “No.”
“One dance and I’ll wash all the dishes at the next meal.”
The offer took him one second too long to decipher.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, taking his can and setting it beside hers on the road. Her song had melted into another song, a slower one, and Luke knew he was not getting out of this. She took his hands in hers, and the thought of the strand of her that really was Sage Hollywood came over him. Persuasive, beautiful, and seductive. It was not a comforting combination when you were trying to keep a polite distance. “Now, this is real easy.”
His hands in hers, she put them onto her hips. “Your hands go here. Like this.”
And then, completely caught in her web, he gave in and let her start them swaying together. She brushed her hair that hung in loose waves across her shoulders back. “And I put my hands up here like this.”
Lands, she could lead him anywhere like this, and he knew it. When she looked up at him, her eyes brushed across his and held. He glanced at her lips and shook himself out of that thought. Too many people. Too many watching eyes. But why was that so incredibly hard to remember with her looking at him like this?
“See,” she finally said, “it’s not so hard.”
No but it was about to make him completely insane. He had no more had the thought than she came closer and laid her head on his shoulder drawing him to her, swaying gently. Oh, boy. He was a goner for sure.