A Baby For The Minister. Laurel Blount

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       Chapter Two

      “Could you give me a ride?” Natalie asked. “My car wouldn’t start this morning. Adam had to drive to the motel to pick me up.” Her poor old car had rattled all the way here from Atlanta, and she’d prayed every mile that it wouldn’t strand her on the side of the road.

      It hadn’t, but it had sure been as dead as a rock this morning.

      “Absolutely.” The pastor spoke firmly. “I’ll take you anyplace you want to go.”

      “Thank you.” She offered him the brightest smile she could manage. It must not have been very convincing because that sympathy crinkled around his eyes again.

      He gathered up her overnight case and tucked her Bible under his arm. “My truck is just outside.”

      Pastor Stone asked her to wait in the hallway while he had a quick word with the group of people lingering in the sanctuary. Natalie kept her gaze on the floor, but she could feel their curious looks. She was glad when the minister came back and led the way out the big front doors of the church into the drizzly afternoon. To her surprise, he veered toward a battered blue pickup and opened the passenger side door.

      This old beater didn’t look much better than her car. It sure wasn’t the kind of vehicle she’d expect a minister to drive, but it obediently rumbled to life when he twisted the key.

      He shrugged off his suit jacket and held it out to her. “That dress looks thin. You’ve got to be cold, and it’ll take the truck a few minutes to warm up. This weather is weird for April, isn’t it? Usually we’re all running our air conditioners by now, but this year winter just keeps hanging on.”

      She hesitated, but he was right. She was freezing. She took his jacket, tucking it over herself like a blanket. The warm satiny lining felt comforting against her chill-bumped arms, and it smelled like the soap she’d noticed earlier.

      He raised his eyebrows. “So, where can I take you?”

      “405 Chinaberry Road.” She’d been reciting that address over and over to herself ever since Cora had first told her about the farm. “Do you know where that is?”

      “Sure.” The minister leaned back in the seat of the rumbling truck, looking confused. “That’s the old Lark Hill farm. Why do you want to go out there?”

      “Adam’s grandmother is letting me stay there until...for the time being.” He was frowning, and she felt a warning tickle along her arms that had nothing to do with the cold. “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing, just...has Mrs. Larkey seen the place lately?”

      “I’m not sure, but she said Adam’s been staying there for the past week. Why?”

      “Nobody’s lived at Lark Hill in the five years I’ve been in Pine Valley. Last time I drove by, it was looking pretty run-down. In your condition...” He hesitated.

      Was that all? That was nothing. She’d stayed in plenty of places that made run-down look good. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not a very fancy person, Pastor Stone.”

      He hesitated a second, then shrugged. “I guess we can at least go take a look.” He shifted the truck into gear and headed out of the parking lot. “And you can call me Jacob. Everybody does.” He offered her a sideways glance and a smile. “I’m not a very fancy person, either.”

      Natalie nodded and adjusted the seat belt across her baby bump. Riding in a car was so uncomfortable these days. Then again, everything was.

      The preacher shot her an apologetic look. “It’s going to be about a ten-minute drive. Lark Hill’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere.”

      The middle of nowhere. In spite of everything, Natalie’s lips curved into a smile. She’d lived in overcrowded housing projects all her life.

      The middle of nowhere sounded wonderful.

      Adam just had to show up and go through with their wedding. Cora had made herself very clear. No marriage, no farm.

      No future.

      Natalie turned her face toward the window and squeezed her eyes shut. Please, Lord. You know I can’t provide a good life for this baby all by myself. Please, let Adam come back.

      A few minutes later, Jacob slowed and put on his turn signal, although as far as Natalie could see, there wasn’t another car for miles.

      “Here we are,” he said. A tilted sign announced Lark Hill Farm in weather-beaten blue paint. The faded silhouette of a bird perched on the bar of the H, its beak lifted in a silent song.

      Natalie winced as the pickup bumped over the ruts of the overgrown driveway, but she forgot her physical misery when she caught her first glimpse of the farmhouse. Her heart sped up as she gazed at the view through the smudged windshield.

      This place was just perfect.

      * * *

      This place was just awful.

      Jacob slowed the truck to a gentle stop, but he didn’t bother to turn off the engine. There was no way they’d be staying here for very long. He’d been polite when he’d described the old farm as run-down.

      It was a dump.

      The tiny one-story farmhouse was covered in peeling white paint. A couple of scraggly chickens were scratching in the dead leaves littering its sagging porch. Beyond the house was a gray rough-lumber СКАЧАТЬ