An Honest Life. Dana Corbit

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СКАЧАТЬ the story with a twirl of an index finger, Rusty held up his hand. “I’m getting there. It’s said that the late Joseph Sims was a real good Christian man, a deacon who had just been called into the ministry when he passed. Sister Laura has spent almost three decades preparing her daughter to marry someone just like him.”

      Rick started walking again but turned to speak over his shoulder. “What does that have to do with attacking strangers on construction sites?”

      Rusty raised both hands in a gesture of simplicity. “Charity is trying to act the part of a perfect minister’s wife, hoping that will help her catch a minister. But she’s got it all wrong.”

      “That’s pretty obvious, but I don’t see how any of this matters.”

      “Hear me out, okay?” Glancing first at the parsonage, Rusty turned back to his boss. “Almost two years ago, when Andrew started his fellowship at Hickory Ridge, Charity chased after him like toilet paper stuck to a shoe, and she was appreciated about as much. It was a real blow to her when he married Serena instead.”

      Andrew and Serena who had just had a child together? With Charity as their nurse? A seed of pity for the woman he’d immediately disliked threatened to sprout inside Rick, but he pushed it safely underground. “I bet that made it uncomfortable today at the hospital.”

      “It might have been, but I just know Sister Charity did everything she could to make the delivery comfortable for Serena. Charity’s a great nurse. You can just tell how much she cares about those babies—and their moms. That’s how I know she has a good heart.”

      Rick took a few more steps away. “She wasn’t displaying any good heart when she marched in and attacked me over my choice of music.”

      Rusty walked up behind him again. “Our Charity. What a gal.” He laid a hand on his boss’s shoulder until Rick faced him, and then Rusty leaned in for a close examination. “Well, it doesn’t look like she left any marks—visible ones, anyway. Why don’t you give her a break this time?”

      “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

      “Besides, it’s not like you have to work with her every day or anything. You probably won’t have to see her again until the dedication.”

      From your mouth to God’s ears. But to Rick, he only said, “Okay. You’re right.” It was awfully hard for him to see gray in his black-and-white world, and his friend expected him to see the full range of hues from soft silver to dark steel. “But that woman is as pious as the rest of those church people I remember.”

      “I’m one of those church people, R.J., and you know me, warts and all. It’s not fair to pile us into one pot any more than it would be for me to judge your relationship with God.”

      Rick stared at Rusty. He did know him, through years of work and through a friendship where the roots had grown deep. “Point taken. But hey, she attacked me.”

      “I’m not debating that. I don’t know what put a bee in her bonnet. But I’m telling you there’s another side to Charity. The side that appears when she puts on her scrubs and heads into those fancy labor rooms.”

      “Obviously, her transformation didn’t work today because she had scrubs on when she was here.” Rick tried a bit of humor, but Rusty shook his head, apparently not buying it.

      “I’ll never forget when she helped deliver Max.” Rusty paused as if he was reliving that special day. “When she handed me that big round boy, I saw tears in her eyes.”

      Rick raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, she’s not completely evil.”

      “Far from it, my friend.” Rusty grinned and, without another word, turned and jogged to the rear of the building site that would eventually be the gymnasium.

      Rick exhaled as he watched him, all of the wind ripped from his perfectly good rant. Watching the other workers, he had the creepy sensation that they’d been observing him during the discussion with Rusty. At least they couldn’t have heard it. But the breath he exhaled, he immediately drew back in. Just how long had they stood there discussing this woman who was a stranger to him? Stranger? After that discussion, he knew more about Charity Sims’ personal life than he’d learned about many crew members who had worked for him for months. Years even.

      Rick tightened his tool belt and returned to the saw, hoping the blare would drown out thoughts of anything other than roofing trusses and subcontractors. Nothing would be allowed to divert his focus from completing this project on time and with the highest quality workmanship.

      Sweaty work had always been his ticket out of his past and into the security and respect he craved. With this project, he could finally prove to those who believed he would amount to nothing that they were wrong.

      Because it didn’t make much difference when compared to such critical matters, he would cut Charity some slack. She would likely keep her distance from him now, anyway. If she didn’t, well, he’d cross that bridge when he slammed into it.

      Chapter Three

      Two days later, Labor Day offered a sunny Monday off for many laborers, but fidgetiness kept Charity from enjoying the respite. Concentrating on the pots of chrysanthemums and garden tools at her feet was impossible when she only had to peek around the church building’s corner to see the prospect who had become “priority one” in her mission work. Even on the holiday, Rick remained the lone construction worker, toiling as if some supervisor still had him on the clock. Or as if he had something to prove.

      After adding another look in that direction to the dozen earlier, she regretted turning down her mother’s invitation for their annual holiday outlet shopping spree. At the time, relaxation had seemed more important. Well, if relaxation wore grass-stained gardening shoes and was on constant alert, then she was well on the road to tranquility.

      She continued yanking fists of dying wax begonias from the earth, the loose dirt seeming the most solid thing beneath her lately. But finally she gave in to her curiosity and took another peek at the building project. Too bad Rick, sporting a Detroit Red Wings cap and sunglasses, picked that moment to trudge toward the front of the church building where she’d been working.

      “Sure is a beautiful morning. It was, anyway.” He stopped several feet away but gazed directly at her, sunlight catching on his unusual blue eyes. “It’s afternoon now.”

      Though Charity’s cheeks burned, and her mouth competed with the Sahara on the dryness scale, she managed an affirmative noise in her throat. An awkward silence followed until they both spoke at once to break it.

      “Hey, I’m sorry—”

      “You know, I’m sorry—”

      Charity couldn’t help laughing and felt relieved when Rick joined in. As he took a few more steps toward her, she scrambled to her feet. The filth she wiped from her palms to her holey jeans probably came with a dose of perspiration. She resisted the temptation to pat her hands on her loose ponytail. It shouldn’t have mattered how she looked. “I wasn’t bothering you, was I?”

      “No. Was my noise bothering you? I didn’t have any music on this morning.” His smile was no less than devastating, that soft-looking mouth incongruous with the hard lines of his cheekbones. A small split tamed the perfection of his straight teeth.

      Could her face and СКАЧАТЬ